


I'll Stow Away My Greys

by Joy_in_the_House, MinervaNorth



Series: Sing the Greys [3]
Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Hockey, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wedding, god I love the hockey, the ending they deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:36:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22667281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joy_in_the_House/pseuds/Joy_in_the_House, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaNorth/pseuds/MinervaNorth
Summary: “I’ll stow away my greys… I feel better and better, and worse, and then better than ever.”Kate Cavanagh went through eight years of hell in the Army and another eighteen months waiting and wondering if her friend and ex Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz would come back in one piece. When he did, and they rebuilt the foundation of what they were before, he did something she never expected—asked her to marry him. And of course, she said yes.For the first time in ten years, Kate is feeling something unfamiliar: better.
Relationships: Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Sing the Greys [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537189
Comments: 21
Kudos: 12





	1. It's the year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joy_in_the_House](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joy_in_the_House/gifts).

> Who needs this ending as much as I do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate and Greg have started their wedding planning, but the concept that they're going to be husband and wife becomes beautifully overwhelming.

**March 7, 2019**   
**1912 Hours**   
**1111 W 14th Place #122, Little Italy, Chicago**

I find myself peering at the ring again. It’s becoming a theme; it’s been over a month now, but for some reason, it still doesn’t look real. I’ve found myself drifting, staring at it when I shouldn’t be. But it’s there, lingering.

After all this time, I never thought it would be real.

“Are you ready to go, or are you gonna stare at it for a while?”

I look up to the voice. He leans against the wall of the hallway, and I look over him. He lets me without comment. That swept back, dark hair. He doesn’t let it get long anymore. The smirk that transforms into a bright smile. From under his red hoodie, I see the light scarring, the only thing left from his last traipse with death in the Sandbox.

He knows how hard this time of the year is for me. For us, even. I’m so used to it being so dark, but with each glint of that diamond ring, I feel the light springing back into me.

He knows why. Last year, around this time, he was in a coma in Germany, and I was sitting by his side, doing the rosary over and over again.

“Are you ready?” He asks me one more time.

I finally stand up, shaking the dark thoughts from my mind. We both know if we’re here tonight, just doing what we usually do, we’re going to let the thoughts eat us alive. Besides, it’s a new year. It’s a new attempt at living.

It’s a long walk—about two miles—but both of us know it’s better than trying to get a cab at this hour. Besides, even in the cold March air, we both can breathe deep.

Even so, his silence makes me wary. We’re a few blocks into our walk before it’s quiet enough to make me say something.

“You’re ruminating on something.”

“Aren’t I always?”

I link my arm through his and glance at him. We’re almost eye to eye. I like it that way. Still, he straightens as we walk, and I think he feels my gaze on him.

“Why are you staring at me?” He chuckles, almost nervously.

“Oh, it’s not you,” I finally say. “It’s the ring.”

“What, you gotta make sure it’s still there?”

I push him a little bit, and it drives him off-kilter. “Hey. Stop it. It’s just… I never—I can’t—I don’t—”

We wait for the crosswalk at the next intersection, and he extricates himself from me, grasping my arms and pulling me so I have to face him.

“Stop speakin’ in negatives.”

“What?”

“Never, can’t, don’t,” he says. I’m so used to him being distracted. Usually, his eyes dart back and forth. His unending focus of his bright blue eyes almost make me unsettled in the best way. “That ain’t our thing anymore, Kate. It’s happening. I’m not leaving again.”

“Something you learned from Dr. Charles?” I ask, squinting. He just smirks and lets me go as the light changes.

“You know,” he says, effectively changing the subject, “I have… I, uh, we need to talk about—about something…”

There goes the stuttering. I know it’s important, but I’m obligated to tease him.

“Mouse, I’m going to be your wife. You’ve really got to get your nerves in check.”

And just like that, on the Pavilion side of the intersection, he stops in his tracks. With a glance down Harrison, he looks to UIC campus, and then to the other side, we could see Gaffney towering above the other buildings. I don’t know what made him panic all of a sudden, but it’s broken as he starts to laugh.

“You okay?” I ask, but I think I know what set him off. Before I can say anything, he pulls me into him. It’s a feeling I’m still not used to. He draws me close, slides his hand behind my neck, and I nearly lose my balance as he kisses me.

When he finally lets me go, and I’m gasping for breath, and my hat has fallen off, he lets out another loud laugh.

“This woman is going to be my wife!” He calls out, much louder than I expect, and I try to shush him, but it’s to no avail. He’s laughing, and soon, I’m laughing, and I realize what’s happened—for the first time in almost a month and a half, Greg has made the realization that he’s getting married, and he’s getting married to me. He leans down and grabs my hat, stealing it for himself and slipping it on backwards. 

"You gonna be okay?" I say, trying to hide my laughter behind my hand. 

He grasps me around my waist and pulls me close once more, this time, getting back on track to our destination. "Seriously, though. We gotta talk about something. So, uh, it's been about a month and half and we don't have a date set yet."

I cringe. "Yeah, you're probably right. You sure we can't just run away and do it?"

"You know my grandmother would murder me," he says out of the side of his mouth. He's right, but it still makes me giggle. 

I look around the cold Chicago spring, and before I realize it, I'm speaking. "I've always wanted to get married in the fall."

"Would make things a helluva lot easier to remember," he says. "You got a date in mind?"

"What about October?"

He straightens a little as we walk. It's not a good month. It's the month he left. It's the month I got shot. It's definitely not something we want to remember.

But, without a second thought, he gets out his phone and pulls up his calendar app and starts scrolling through. 

"October 12," he murmurs. 

"October 12," I say. I think about Chicago at that time: slightly overcast, in the 50s, the leaves turning yellow, gold, red. "It's.... it's perfect."

"Well, shit," he says, putting his phone away. "That was easy. Why can't all the decisions be that easy?"

I pull from his grasp and shift to hold his hand. He lets me, and it still makes my heart jump, the way he holds on to me, like I might let go at any time. I feel him squeeze a little, and I know he presses the ring up against his own fingers.

"What about the honeymoon?"

"Honeymoon?" He repeats, scoffing a little. "Aren't you jumpin' the gun a little?"

"We gotta go on a honeymoon. It's the law."

"We gotta make sure we can get it off first," he says. "Shit, we gotta tell Frazzini!"

"He'll be fine," I say. His worry, his anxiety, it actually makes me smile. It's unfounded. He doesn't have to worry. Not anymore. 

"In that case, where do you want to go?"

"You're leaving it to me to decide?"

"I don't care, as long as it's with you."

I mime throwing up for a second, and he busts into laughter once more. I watch him. I can't not watch him. It's like every time he smiles, I'm afraid it's going to go away just as quickly.

"Why not go out west?" I suggest.

"What, like, the Rockies?"

"Get into the mountains. Some ice skating. Snow. We've dealt with enough sand, haven't we?"

He gets a little more stoic after my comment. And that's fine. "Yeah. Yeah, what's the opposite of the Sandbox?"

"A cabin in some snowy woods somewhere where no one can find us. Some place... some place quiet."

"Quiet. Some place quiet," he says, seemingly mulling it over. "I... I would like quiet."

He's right. After everything we've been through, we deserve the quiet.


	2. Would you come brighten my corner?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate and Greg continue to make some decisions about their wedding, including the best part—the reception. Still, the weight of Kate's truant parents weighs heavily on her, and her mortal enemy makes another appearance on the ice. With the addition of her best friend Kelley Marcks to the team, though, the game becomes a little easier.

**April 6, 2019**

**2105 Hours**

**Molly’s Pub, Chicago**

I lean over the bar and start to refill my own beer, and I see the pretty blonde bartender at the other end of the bar turn to face me. She points at me, still wielding a towel, and I quickly finish filling my glass before she finally makes it back to me.

“Hey! Hey, hey! None of that!”

“Too late, mine now,” I say, drinking the head off the Guinness. She leans on the bar in front of me, and I make a face at her.

“That’s technically stealing, Kate.”

“You know where to find me,” I scoff, glancing to Sylvie. She’s looking increasingly aggravated. I know why, and I choose quickly to ignore it. She's just going to make me do more planning. Instead, I turn back to Kelley. “You’re takin’ over for Chicks this tournament, right?”

“I’m gonna try,” she says. I know she’s nervous. I know she’s unsure sometimes, but she just needs a little encouragement.

“You’re gonna be fine!” I chide. “Cover my ass, make sure I get the puck, and we’ll be solid. Besides, tap into whatever you were using when you tried out.”

She straightens a little. There it is. “You told AK I could beat his ass six ways to Sunday!”

“Yeah, so?”

“You had never seen me play!” 

“And you didn’t let me down,” I snark back. The brief moment of time I spend drinking more of my beer gives Sylvie an in. 

“Kate, you need to focus,” Sylvie says, looking down at her clipboard. “Mouse already has his groomsmen.”

“And he stole mine,” I comment. “I’ve known the Halsteads longer.”

“It just makes sense for them to be on Mouse’s side,” she says. She’s not happy with me. I’m supposed to be making decisions, sure, but Greg has gone off to drink with Jay at a table, leaving me to get chided by Sylvie about my lack of wedding planning. In reality, it makes me nervous. I know what comes with each decision. I'm not having second thoughts. I would never have second thoughts. It's just the pageantry I don't appreciate.

It’s really not my fault. I don’t have a lot of friends. I have Sylvie, and I have Kelley—she came last year to 51—and that’s about it. I mean, sure, Foster, and Stella, and Kim, but these two are the closest—

“Wait,” I say, pointing to Sylvie and Kelley, who has taken my beer glass and refilled it again, this time, better than I could have from this angle. “This is dumb. You two.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Kel says, wiping her hands on the slightly discolored rag.

“Bridesmaids. Right here,” I say, gesturing back and forth to the two. “That was easy.”

I hop off my bar stool, leaving the two of them in stunned silence.

“You never even asked!” Sylvie says, somehow exasperated with me and enthusiastic.

“Sylvie, Kelley,” I start declaiming. It might be the beer. It might be Jay’s snorting laughter behind me. “Will you be my bridesmaids?”

Sylvie just starts excitingly nodding. Kelley can’t form a sentence—

“What? No. A-a-are you serious? Kate, really? There’s—what—we need dresses, we need… we need…”

With that, Sylvie turns to another piece of paper on her clipboard and leans over the bar, talking low to Kelley.

“You’re gonna kill that poor girl,” Jay says over his beer, gesturing to Kelley.

“Nah, she can take it,” I say, leaning into Greg. “What are you talking about?”

Gregturns around his phone, where he’s got a list of names—people from Gaffney, District 21, House 51.

“Guest list?” I ask, my humor slipping from my voice. I guess I never thought about this. But when I look over his list, I only see his grandmother on his side. I don’t feel as bad. Instead, I drink half my beer.

“Invite your team,” I say quietly. “Ortiz, Quinn. Kilbride. Whitney.”

Greg's face shifts a little, his grin fading. But it turns into a slight nod. A nod that becomes conviction, becomes him writing down their names on the list.

“You’re gonna need your team, too,” he says. With that, he adds the whole list— Howie, Edger, AK, Laser, Dags, Kilts, Goop, Raz, Murf, Chicks. It brings the total to about sixty with guests. Small, but it doesn’t need to be large. Regardless, I see the part where Greg listed his grandmother, and I try to brush it off. Maybe Kelley will pour me another beer.

“Kate, we gotta talk about it.”

“Why?” I can't help getting aggravated. I should have known this talk was coming soon. 

Jay intervenes. “You gotta call your parents.”

“And what if I already did?”

The table gets quiet. I find myself fumbling with my necklace. Better than my dog tags.

“You didn’t hear from them?” Jay asks. It’s casual. He’s trying not to make a big deal about it. And that’s fine. But it really isn’t that big of a deal anymore.

“I haven’t heard from them in a decade. What makes you think they’ll answer me now?”

“What did you do?”

“Called the numbers I had. Mom was disconnected. Dad never answered. Went straight to voicemail.”

“I could look into—” Greg starts, but with a wave I cut him off.

“No. No, it’s fine. They don’t care enough to find out whether I’m back, they don’t deserve to be in my life when I get married.”

“Father Mullen said—” He tries, but I shake my head.

“Don’t invoke pre-Cana,” I say. “It’s not fair. It’s not my fault they don’t seem to care. It’s fine. I’ve got everything I need right here.” I make a vague gesture around the bar, and the two of them follow my hand. Actually, I’m not far off. With only about sixty people invited, I mean—

“We should have a reception here,” I say dumbly.

“Can you just give me a second to catch up?” Greg says, chuckling a little. “I’m not exactly sure what’s goin’ on in that brain of yours right now.”

“I’ve jumped ahead,” I explain. “We need a reception place, right?”

“Yeah?”

“What about here? It’s the right size, we can bring in catering, plug in a playlist over the sound system and call it a day.”

Greg looks around the place once more, his face shifting from light humor to one of seeming recognition. One of decision. And as he starts to nod, I see where his eyes stop: the bar stools where we met. The bar stools where we got back together. The bar stools where he proposed.

“It’s gotta be here,” he finally says. With that, Jay yells to Herrmann.

“Yo, Herrmann! You got anythin’ on October 12?”

He scrunches his face. “Isn’t that the wedding of the century?”

“Herrmann, can we have the reception here?” I ask. I can’t look at him. I can only look at Greg.

As Herrmann agrees wholeheartedly, Jay grabs Sylvie and Kelley and they start planning whatever it is they can start planning over at the bar, leaving Greg and I alone.

He takes my hand in mine, running his fingers over the claddagh ring. I had moved it to my left hand—middle finger, not traditional, but it’s where it fit—pointing out. The Irish symbol of engagement, sitting right next to my ring finger.

“I’m sorry about your parents.”

“I’m not. I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

“I know, but you shouldn’t half to.”

“It’s just going to be easier if I don’t,” I say. “It’s best if it just… if I just let them go. Besides, I have plenty of people.”

Greg looks over to Sylvie for a moment, who's looking more and more frazzled. “You know Sylvie’s gonna take over this entire wedding.”

“And I’m gonna let her,” I say, grinning.

“Do you have a dress yet?”

I shrug. “I’ll get one eventually.”

“Jay and I have our uniforms already, and you still don’t have a dress.”

“I’m not gonna rush things. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“You don’t want to go shopping," he accuses.

“It’s the worst, Mouse. It’s gonna suck. It’s gonna be the absolute worst.”

Sylvie calls out to me. “Kate, what color are you thinking?”

I glance in horror to Greg. “The hell? I have to pick colors now?”

He talks out of the side of his mouth. “That kinda comes with the territory.”

“I really don’t care about colors. You pick.”

“Green,” he calls out.

“What kind of green?!” Sylvie says, exasperated.

“Dark green,” I concur. “Would match your uniforms.”

“Perfect,” he hums, holding my hand still. "We can do this. We've been through worse."

"I know," I whisper. "We've got help this time."

* * *

**April 26, 2019**

**1846 Hours**

**Johnny’s Ice House East**

“I cannot believe it,” I hiss under my breath. It’s the first game against my mortal enemies, the West Town Ruskies, and I cannot believe it. “How the hell did they let him back in?”

“He probably paid them off. You never pressed charges, did you, Tilly?” Howie asks.

“No! I didn’t think I had to! Plus, I was a little bit busy afterwards…”

Greg nearly skates past me. He’s gotten better, but Kelley very gently, very nearly gets into Greg's face and forces him backwards. Without another word, he just skates back into the crease. Kel knows what she’s doing. If Greg gets his shot, he’s going to take it taking him out.

Kelley skids to a stop next to me, causing some ice to shave off and fan out. “That’s the guy? That’s the guy who nearly killed you?”

“He didn’t nearly kill me, give me some credit,” I say under my breath.

“Which one? The big one? What’s his name? Berkowitz? Okay. One sec.” Kelley inhales heavily and I very nearly make it to her mouth, but she evades me. “Hey, Berkowitz! You suck at hockey more than your mom sucks dick!”

Berkowitz already starts towards Kel, so I start to push her back. This is going to be bad. This is going to get even worse.

“Please, don’t antagonize him. He’s going to come after you.”

“Better you than me,” she grumbles. “At least I’m on defense.”

“Dammit, who picked the music this time?” Goop calls out.

Raz nearly runs into me, skating backward, miming moonwalking, as he yells out “turn down for what?”

I point at Kelley, and she just shrugs. AK gestures for us to come over, and we dog pile.

“Standard procedure. Raz, I want you and Kelley out there.”

Kelley and Raz high five and then low five. When I look at AK, his face turns pale. “I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

“Too late!” I say, heading for the faceoff.

And with that, I’m facing him once more. Berkowitz. The guy who beat the shit out of me at the end of the last tournament. And he’s going to have a bone to pick with me. Instead of saying anything, he just peers at me. There’s one thing that’s different.

The goddamn chirping behind me.

“Yo, Berks! You a tough guy? Huh? Huh? Hey, Raz! Tilly! Lookit, we got a tough guy here! Ooooh, look out for the tough guy!”

I try to keep a straight face. I’m doing my best. I had long enough in the Army, and I train ROTC kids, and I’ve spent years keeping a straight face in front of ridiculousness.

Kelley, though, nearly breaks my concentration in the best of ways.

When the puck drops, though, I snatch that puck away from Berkowitz like I’ve been waiting to do it for months.

Oh, wait. I have.

I deke around Berkowitz, and like she’s shot out of a cannon, Kelley slips between him and I. Blocking him, she gives me a perfect shot. A perfect hole to get through. Completely free. Without the bulky attacks of Murf or Raz or Goop or Chicks, with the tiny build of a fast skater, I realize just how valuable Kelley is going to be for us. But I can't stick in my head. I can't stay in my head, because I'm almost to the goal. 

And I take the opportunity, weaving through and within the first minute of play, I get the first shot of the game.

And as the horn sounds, I hear Kelley yelling over it. “Yo, I hear there’s an opening for a Zamboni driver! You might actually get some ice time!”

Ables skates backwards, getting between Kelley and I and Berkowitz. Instead of backing off, though, Kelley calls over my shoulder.

“Dude, you gotta loosen up!” She yells. I actually have to push her back this time. “No, you actually gotta. It’ll hurt less when I beat your ass!”

At this point, Raz just bursts out laughing. His chaotic nature comes through and he’s just egging Kelley on.

“Why the fuck are there two of them?!” Berkowitz cries out.

“Bitch, are you crying?” I find myself saying. I’m suddenly not holding Kelley back anymore. In fact, she’s coming up next to me. We should be heading for the dot, but Berkowitz just keeps coming closer.

“Kate, don’t do it!” I hear Greg cry out from the crease. 

Berkowitz takes one look at me and takes off his gloves.

“Oh, hell no,” Kelley says, and I know I can’t let her take him by herself. Not with her knee. He’s gonna fight dirty. Somewhere on the other side of the rink, I see Greg starting to leave the crease.

“Stay back,” AK says to Greg, putting out his arm. “This is her fight.”

Naturally, Berkowitz takes the first punch, and then it’s fair game. I block him as he swings for me, but he swings again and I see Kelley go flying. Not one to miss out on a fight, she comes back swinging. Our combined force knocks him into the boards, and the ref finally steps in, forcing the both of us back and pointing us to the sin bin.

Kelley just lets out a loud laugh. A maniacal laugh, even. As she passes Raz, they perform what’s becoming their coined high five, low five move.

It’s five on three, sure, but it’s worth it, barely a minute into the game. When we get to the box, Sylvie is already waiting, sighing, looking increasingly agitated. It tends to be a theme.

Immediately, she’s putting an ice pack on Kelley’s eye. I didn’t even get a chance to see it. Sylvie already starts grumbling under her breath.

“You know we’re dress hunting next week. You’re going to have a damn black eye.”

I watch the two of them, fussing over each other, and I look out to the rink, over the boys, to Greg. Ables comes at him, and for the first time, for the first time that I can remember, I get to see him block a shot. I'm screaming on my feet before I can say anything to Sylvie.

"That's right! Hell yeah, Mouse! Get it!"

He mimes blowing a kiss to me. It's awkward with the blocker, but the message gets sent. Between him, between the team, between Sylvie fussing over Kelley, I know I don't need anyone else. The people I care about most are here. 

Sometimes family are the people you choose, whether they're in your life for months or years or decades. It doesn't matter, as long as they're there for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to Joy for literally writing the hockey chirps for me. And letting me borrow Kelley Marcks. 
> 
> Kate needed her more than I realized.


	3. I’ll blush you red on your side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate takes some time to visit House 51, inviting the entire crew to the wedding and securing some of her main men as wedding speakers. And even though Kelley had a black eye, she still has enough vision to see exactly what Kate needs.

**May 18, 2019**

**0858 Hours**

**Firehouse 51, 1360 S Blue Island Ave., Chicago**

I hope I make it early enough to talk to the crew before they head off of shift. I know Sylvie will be waiting for me, but there’s a few I wanted to catch before they all left.

I slip inside, and I see Boden, who gives me a curt nod. I poke my head into his office, wielding my several plates of chocolate chip cookies. “Chief Boden! Good morning! I just wanted to… well, invite you. To my wedding. I’ll be sending along invites, sure, but consider this the save the date. October 12. I’m inviting the entire house. Just thought I would stop by.”

He breaks into a rare smile. “I’ll be there, Kate.”

I about run out, but then return to offer him a cookie. At first, he shakes his head, and when I don’t leave right away, he takes a pair.

With that, I head off to the common room to see them all still there. Otis is the first one to see me.

“Aww, yeah! Kate brought cookies!”

Hands full of cookie plates, he walks up to me, kisses me on the cheek in lieu of a hug, and takes a plate for himself.

“Hey, hey, hey! None of that!” Cruz calls out, going to steal at least part of his best friend’s loot.

“I’ll just take the other one off your hands,” Mouch grumbles, with Herrmann hot on his heels.

“Okay, you guys can just fight over the cookies,” I finally say instead of giving a greeting, “This is your formal save the date—October 12, make sure you’re coming. Catholic church, so be good, at least until the reception, which is at Molly’s."

“Uniforms or dresses?” Stella calls out.

“Whatever you want! Dates permitted, but do not embarrass me," I say, pointing directly at Cruz and Otis. They don't even see it. Foster and Stella high five.

“Anyone see Severide?” I ask, and Casey nudges his head towards the locker room. “Herrmann, can I talk to you too?” I say in a lower voice.

“Yeah, sure, kid, what’s goin’ on?” Herrmann says as we head down the hallway.

“Okay, so. I have a question to ask you,” I say. I realize quickly I’m playing with my necklace. Herrmann notices too, and he just watches me patiently. I didn’t know the guy could be patient.

“Herrmann, you’ve been like a father to me since I got back,” I begin. “I mean, between Molly’s, and… and everything you and Cindy did after… after….”

“After what happened,” he completes, knowing it’s enough. He urges me to continue, but I already see the tears welling in his eyes, like he knows what’s coming.

“And for all your support as Mouse and I went through everything last year, and for… for practically giving us Molly’s for the reception, I was hoping… I was hoping you would do a reading for the wedding.”

“Kate. Kate, I…” He almost needs a moment. In fact, he takes a step away, holding his fist to his mouth, trying not to cry. “Kate, I would love to. I gotta say yes. It’s the wedding of the century, remember?”

“I just need you involved,” I continue. “I need you to be there. I don’t know who else…”

“Hey, I’ve always got you, kid. You know that,” He says, grasping my shoulder. “I gotta ask, which one?”

“Oh, yeah. For you, the second reading. Uh, Corinthians. You know the one.”

The hand on my shoulder quickly becomes a full blown hug. He holds me for a while, and I don’t want to let him go. Eventually, I hear Severide’s voice.

“Yo, Kate! What’s up?”

Herrmann lets me go, holds me at arm’s length, and then walks away, leaving me with Severide.

“Wanted to talk to you,” I say, clearing my throat. It’s almost too much, doing this all at once. “I just… Severide, ever since we met at the pile up, you’ve had my back.”

“This sounds heavy, what’s going on?” Severide says, almost nervously.

“You were the first person to really acknowledge me and… and the fact I needed help. You’ve been there since the start. I just… would you do a reading for my wedding?”

He seems taken aback. He seems confused almost. Even with my explanation, I see the color rise a little in his cheeks.

“Kate, I’m flattered, but… but why me?”

“I told you, Sev. You know why. You just never admit that to yourself.”

He lets out a short laugh, looking down at the floor. I don’t know if he’s embarrassed, or doesn’t find himself worthy, but he finally just nods.

“Whatever you need, I’ll do it.”

I pull him into a big hug. He actually lets me, and it’s a long time before I let go.

“Thanks, Sev.”

I leave him to go about his day and try to wipe the tears from my eyes. I need to find Sylvie and Kelley so we can go on our wedding dress adventure, but I need air. I head on outside, trying to breathe through the stress and emotion. I walk out through the driveway and to the grass on the other side of the drive. Leaning on the brick fence post, I look out over the Chicago skyline, trying to regain some sort of composure.

“Kate! Kate. Kate!” I hear in varying volumes and pitches. Otis comes running out of the firehouse, carrying his bag, and skids to a stop near the edge of the driveway. “Hey, consider this my RSVP. I ain’t missin’ this wedding for nothing.”

I wipe the tears from my face, and he almost looks concerned. “You good?”

“Otis, you’re too sweet,” I say, stepping towards him in the grass. “Do you think… could you be an usher?”

His face brightens, like I had given him the most important job in the world, until it falls. “One condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“You save me a dance.”

He pulls his arm around my waist and pulls me into a horrible dance hold, before making me spin awkwardly under his arm in the tamped down grass.

“Always, Otis.”

He lets me go, blowing me a kiss as he heads down the sidewalk and away from the firehouse.

* * *

**May 18, 2019**

**1456 Hours**

**North Rush Street, Chicago**

Sylvie bounces down Rush Street with such a spring in her step, I want to vomit. We’ve hit three bridal shops already today. I have found nothing. I guarantee I will not find anything.

It’s hard when you’re trying to hide the scars of eight years of the Army. And the scars of Chicago, I guess. I just keep feeling more and more discouraged.

It’s not her fault. She’s trying.

Still, Sylvie’s unbridled optimism fails to infect me, even if Kelley seems to embrace at least a fraction of it.

“What’s your problem?” Kelley asks bluntly. She knows it won’t bother me. The Irish Canadian and I have seen eye to eye since day one, and it’s not worth fumbling around the small talk.

“I don’t know,” I grumble. “Nothing works. I don’t like anything.”

“It goes deeper than that, and you know it.”

I glance to Kelley. She’s got scars too, visible or invisible. Maybe that’s why we got so close so fast. Maybe that’s why between her and Sylvie, I’ve got what I need. Sylvie’s the angel on my shoulder, Kelley is— well, most of the time—the Devil.

Yeah, that scans.

“Listen, you and Mouse—literally made for each other, okay? It doesn’t matter what you wear. He’s gonna love you no matter what,” Kelley says.

“I feel like he paid you to say that.”

She cringes a little. “Maybe. Kind of. Not the point.”

“How much? I’m gonna be his wife, I deserve to know.”

“It wasn’t in cash. More like, he will help me when I need him.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all!” I chuckle. I find myself laughing for the first time today.

Sylvie opens the door to the next store and I let out a sigh. She does her typical meeting with the attendant, and I just let myself hover through the bridesmaids’ dresses. I know I want dark green, but honestly, nothing has felt right so far. In fact, I actually like this store. They’re not hovering. They’re not interrupting me. I can just… look.

When I glance up, I realize Sylvie and Kelley are eyeing a group of gowns the attendant is pointing out, but I refuse to go over there. They can find something. It’s not going to work anyway.

Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe we should just go down to the courthouse. Maybe I should just wear my uniform.

That’s actually not a bad idea. Hmm.

I pull a dress from the rack. The dark green dress gathers at the natural waist, slips all the way up to the neck, and delicately shifts in an asymmetrical hem. Not strapless, not your typical satin material, no embellishments. Simple.

Kelley makes a wide berth, approaching me from the side. She knows better than to completely sneak up on me. She’s learned that lesson already.

“What’d you find?” She asks quizzically, and I hold up the dress for her to look at. Her face shifts from surprised to excited very quickly.

“It’s really pretty! I love the color!” She raids the rack herself, pulling what we’ve learned are both her and Sylvie’s sizes, and gestures her head towards the dressing rooms. “We have something to show you.”

“I don’t know if I want to keep looking,” I admit. Her shoulders drop a little.

“You need a wedding dress.”

“I could wear my uniform…?”

“Just… just wait,” she says under her breath. “C’mon. I found you something.”

She leads me back to the dressing rooms, and when I head in, there’s a single dress hanging on the hooks. Nothing else. Not the dozens I’ve already tried on today. One. From here, I can see it’s simple: satin. No crystals or tulle. Spaghetti strap, but next to it hangs what looks like a lace top. Probably to go over it. I didn’t even know that was an option.

Silently, the attendant helps me try it on. I’m still unsure. I’m unsure until I step out of the room and see the two of them, chittering and looking in the floor length mirror. Both in the green dress, both looking incredible.

“Well, that’s your dress,” I say, getting the attention from them. And they stop. And they stop in the middle of their conversation. Sylvie actually puts her hand on her mouth.

“What?”

Kelley points to the floor length mirror, and I step up on the platform.

I look in the floor length mirror. It’s… it’s jarring. It’s unexpected. It’s nothing I thought would ever happen.

The dress’s spaghetti straps slip into a deep V neck, then to a wide band at my natural waist. The ivory satin falls all the way down to my toes, but when I turn, it has a medium length train. No embellishments, no jewels, no lace, except for the cap sleeve topper I know Sylvie picked out for me. It perfectly covers up my scars, slips up to my neck. The lace thins out near my neck, and I can see the necklace Greg gave me sitting perfectly amid the dainty scallops.

I can’t breathe when the attendant gestures for me to shift down. I do, and she places a comb in my hair. The cathedral length train, the tulle, the lace edging…

I can’t see my reflection anymore. I’m not sure why. It just fades into something hazy. I don’t realize I’m crying until Sylvie hands me a tissue.

It hits me all at once.

I’m getting married.

I’m getting married to Greg.

I’m getting married to Greg, and we’re both okay. We’re both living. We’re both thriving.

It’s been a year since I dragged Greg out.

It’s been a year since he came back to me.

It’s been a year since we started to rebuild.

I remember what he said to me. _Not today. _I don’t know what I would have done if he ever decided today was the day. I thank God every day he didn’t.


	4. We all need an escape route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate and Greg buck heads after a particularly tough pre-Cana session, leading them to wonder if it was a good idea to get married. Until Kate gets the text about Kelley, Otis, and the mattress fire.

**May 22, 2019**

**1556 Hours**

**St. Gabriel’s Catholic Church, Canaryville, Chicago**

I’m trying to breathe as we leave the church. Pre-Cana wasn’t supposed to be this hard. I mean, I always knew it would be trying, but this? This is… this is breaking us down. I can’t do this. The anxiety I felt before, last week, the week before, it’s coming back in full force.

“What the hell was that in there?” Greg starts. And I know he was going to start, because I could see his face throughout the class. He was mulling on it for about an hour, silent. And I should know that when he goes dark, he’s going to go off.

“What did you want me to say? You want me to lie to my priest?”

“No, but I want you to be nicer!”

I sigh, holding my hand to my head. I’ve already got a headache. I really don’t need this today.

“Oh, c’mon,” he snaps. “I’m worth more than your ‘I don’t need this’ expression.”

Even in the midst of a fight, he can practically read my mind. “Dammit, Greg. Do we have to fight right now?”

But I know he’s not done. “What about the whole ‘in which areas would you like to help your fiancé improve?'” Greg scoffs. “That was a little brutal.”

“I was being honest!”

“I could be honest, too!” He starts. “Uhh, financials? I feel like all you were doing was breaking me down.”

“Greg, I’m better at numbers than you!” I say, exasperated. “You do the tech, I do finances, it’s just how it works. I’m not going to apologize for that. It’s the truth.”

“I don’t understand why you feel like you’ve gotta be rude about stuff.”

“I’m not being rude! I can’t… Greg, we gotta communicate! That’s the only way people get through shit! We’ve been through enough, don’t you think? Why do you think a few questions asked by a priest are gonna take us down?”

He cringes a little, and I can tell his back is acting up. It’s not his fault. It’s probably not helping.

“Greg, I never heard back from my parents, okay? I don’t think they’re going to come, and… I’m terrified of becoming like them. They got divorced and then had a race to see who could get married again first. It was so vindictive, and… and full of hate, and I just can’t have that with you. I can’t.”

“Don’t you think I don’t want to end up like _my _parents?” He continues. “My mom bounced, and my dad’s dead! At least you had parents!”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” I say. “Neglect or violence.”

“Both end in negativity.”

“And look at us now,” I say, gesturing towards… nothing. I don’t even know. “Don’t you think we’ve been through enough shit? I’m tired, Greg. I want… I want to move on. I want to move on with you. But you’re not making it easy.”

“I’m? I’m not making it easy? You’re just as bad! I don’t know what I can do to make you happy after these conversations!”

“Just talk to me, Greg!” I cry. It echoes through the churchyard. “If we can’t do that, how are we going to stay in love?”

That stops him in his tracks. But I don’t think he changes his mind. He sighs, looks at the ground. “Is this a bad idea?”

My heart falls. After all of this, after last year, that's his question to me. “Is what a bad idea?”

“Us. Us getting married.”

I draw a heavy breath. I don’t want to answer. Because I’m afraid I’m not going to like the answer.

Maybe we’re rushing this. Maybe two years is too long to be apart.

I’m terrified.

But my phone vibrates for the sixth time, and I can’t ignore it anymore. When I read over the text, my heart jumps to my throat.

“We have to go.”

He knows the timbre of my voice, and that the shaking isn’t from the fight. We table it for now. “What? What’s going on?”

“It’s Kelley and Otis.”

* * *

**May 25, 2019**

**1056 Hours**

**St. Paul’s Catholic Church**

Barely a year, and I’m burying another friend.

I can’t even cry. I don’t even know how to cry anymore.

Just the other day—the last shift he ever finished—we were talking about dancing at my wedding.

And now he’s gone. He’s gone.

As the crowd begins to disperse, I see Kelley. I should talk to her, I know, but I don’t know if she can speak right now. Her arm sits in a sling. I swear we just keep passing it around, but I can’t get her attention, even if I wanted to. She stares into the open grave, unblinking. I don’t want to know what she’s thinking. I’m sure I already do.

I’ve been through enough Goddamn funerals. I have to walk away from the open grave. I can’t look at it. I don’t want to see anymore.

When I’m finally away from everyone, I finally let it go. Everything that’s been built up since the day of the fire, it lets go, and I have to lean on a nearby tree.

There’s a light clearing of a throat, and I hear Sylvie’s voice.

“Kate?”

I close my eyes, but it’s coming, and I know I can’t make it stop. It’s been weeks. Months, even, since it came for me. With a snap, with the breaking of a branch under a foot, I hear the gunshot. I’m back there again. It’s tunnel vision, it’s the terror, it’s the pain, and it’s coming back with a fervor like it was mad that I ever thought I was past it.

I cringe. She peers at me, and I feel the sweat rolling down my face. I can’t control it. God. I’m not sure what hurts worse. I shiver. I shouldn’t be shivering. Not here. God, where am I?

“Kate, can you tell me where you are right now?”

I can’t say Afghanistan. That’s not where I am. I’m not positive where I am right now. I fight the urge to pull away.

“Look at me, Kate,” she says. “Where are you?”

“Chicago,” I finally answer. “I can’t remember… I can’t remember... I just need… I need to go.”

“Your heart rate is through the roof,” she says quietly. “You need to breathe slowly. Take some deep, slow breaths for me, okay?”

I’ve been trying, but it’s not working. I’m just dizzy. I should be doing something. I should be doing something to help. I should be with Kelley—

“You’re helping right now by staying right here with me, alright?”

Did I say that out loud? I must have. I try to breathe, but the more I do it, the more I start to feel my own limbs.

“I'm not going to leave you,” she says whispers. “I'm not. I'm right here with you.”

I start crying again as I feel her pull me into a hug, her wrist cast just thumping me on the back.

“Between… between Otis, and Kelley, and—and Greg…”

“What happened between you and Mouse?”

I pull out of the hug, and she holds me at arms’ length. I want to explain, but I don’t know if I can.

“We fought. I don’t know… we don’t… I don’t know if this is a good decision anymore.”

“What, the wedding?” She asks, almost shocked. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know if we both want the same things anymore. I’m not sure we’re the same people anymore.”

“That’s the point of us growing,” she whispers. “We’re never the same people. That’s the point. You fall in love with the ever-changing person. You fall in love with what they were, who they are, and who they could be. It’s not static. It’s constantly moving and changing. And you just have to realize that both of you have to morph and change together.”

I glance up and I see Greg, in that dark grey suit, speaking to someone Sylvie had introduced to me a while ago—the fire chaplain. Kyle. Sylvie and he had been dating. And then I see her hand.

“Did he… he propose to you?!”

She nods, like she’s trying to keep her excitement down. We are in a cemetery, after all.

“Sylvie, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“It’s been… it’s been a rough couple of days.”

“Still…”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We’re… we’re moving.”

“Oh. _Oh.”_

“I’m still going to be here for the wedding. I’m still going to help. I’m just not… I’m not going to be here.”

“Oh.” I feel myself fall flat. I should be excited, but she’s going to be gone. She’s leaving too. Everyone’s leaving.

“I know this probably isn’t the right time to tell you, but I just… I had to. I can’t not tell you. You’re my best friend.”

“I love you, Sylvie. I just want you to be safe. And happy.”

She throws her arms around my neck once more, and I pull her into a tight hug.

“You’ve gotta talk to him,” she whispers in my ear.

“I know. We'll talk later, okay?”

With that, she leaves me by the tree, and I hear his footsteps. I know his footsteps by now. We fall into step, walking down the pathway, silently amid the graves.

“I know exactly when I fell in love with you,” I say. “I thought about a lot after you left, but I was always stuck on one particular night. There was one night that I always remembered, and I realized it’s because that’s when I fell in love with you.”

Four footsteps. We’re in step. They sound like marching.

“February 15, 2016,” he says, his voice rough. I clench my eyes shut, knowing the tears are going to fall again. “I know the date, because it’s the day I fell in love with you.”

“The hockey game,” I whisper, coming to a stop at the edge of the path. “I had never felt so… I was myself with you. I am myself with you. I don’t have to pretend I don't have PTSD, or… or explain why I cringe every time I hear a loud noise, or curse less when I watch sports. I don’t have to do that with you. So, I guess what I’m saying is…. We should get married. We need to get married. We can’t let our past define us. We can’t let what we’ve been through define what we’re going to do.”

“We can be truthful, but not rude,” he says.

“We each have our strengths, and we need to play to them,” I say.

“We can’t become our parents,” he whispers, taking my hands in his. “We won’t become our parents. I know we won’t. We know better, and we can do better for… for…”

“Our kids?” I offer, letting out a chuckle.

We both finally make eye contact. He looks so damn… hopeful. We've never talked about it before. 

“Yes? You mean… you think… I don’t know if I’m ready for that, Kate. I don’t—seriously? We never… we never—”

“It was never in the cards for me before,” I say, pulling him closer. "Would you...?"

"Yes," he says emphatically. I'm almost shocked at his enthusiasm. “But I think we could do it. I think we could do better.”

“Better than our parents,” I say.

“There’s nothing they could do that would surprise us,” he chuckles.

“Oh, God, this town doesn’t need our kid running its street,” I say in mock horror.

“Or kids,” he says out of the side of his mouth. “You never know.”

“Well, let’s table this until after the wedding, there, cowboy.”

He pulls me into him, kissing me hard, kissing me long. I feel myself let out an existential sigh.

“Kaitlyn… Kaitlyn… oh God, I just realized something,” He whispers, leaning his forehead against mine.

“What?”

“I don’t know your middle name,” he says, cringing.

“That’s by design.”

“Kate,” he chides.

“Elen,” I finally say. “The Welsh patron saint of travelers.”

“That wasn’t so hard,” he says. “We still have things to learn about each other.”

I finally pull away from him, wiping the remnants of my tears away. I survey the area, the gravestones, the markings in the ground, when my eyes stop at a particular one.

I chuckle. I think I’m upgrading his title to my own personal patron saint.

“Al Olinsky, you’ve looked out for me from the beginning,” I say, blowing a kiss to the stone. “And you’ve never stopped.”

As Greg starts to pull me away, down the path and to the car to leave, I swear I feel the brush of wind against my cheek.

As long as you keep them in your heart, they never really leave you. 


	5. ‘cause it's important that they see my hopeful smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate and Greg return to District 21 to ask Voight an impossible question as they still reel from Otis's death. Dr. Charles makes an impossible suggestion.

**June 4, 2019**

**1034 Hours**

**Chicago Police Department, District 21**

“You really haven’t been back here since you left?” I ask quietly, opening the door to District 21. It’s bustling this time of the morning, but it doesn’t change the feeling it leaves in my heart. This is the first place we saw each other. This is where it all started.

Without a word, Trudy circumvents the front desk and embraces Greg. He almost looks surprised, not exactly knowing where to put his hands, but eventually, he falls into the hug. She smiles at me from over his shoulder, and as soon as she lets him go, it’s my turn.

“Good to see you both,” she murmurs. She knows. She knows how hard the last week has been, but we all know the consequences. We all know we have to start to rebuild. It’s the only way we’re going to move past it.

“Is Voight in?” I ask, and Trudy just nods. “I’ll buzz you up.”

“Thanks. You and Mouch are coming, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she says, heading back behind her desk. She’s quiet. It’s not the Trudy I’m used to, but it’s the one I need right now.

We start to head up the stairs, and Greg gestures with his head off to the room on the right.

“Got held hostage in that room.”

“The guy with the missing daughter?”

“Yeah.”

“Who miraculously didn’t have any bullets in his gun?”

As we head up the stairs and past the gate, he looks over his shoulder and grins at me. It nearly makes me trip on the stairs. 

And then we make it up to the second floor. To the lines of desks. It’s not his anymore, but I run my hand across the edge of the desk where he sat when he was here. It’s almost sacred.

It must be a slow day, because they’re all milling about their desks doing some sort of paperwork or typing away on their computers. Voight, though, leans against the doorway to his office, watching us when we come in.

“Kate. Mouse,” he says gruffly. I’ve known him for years now, but it still makes me straighten. “What d'you need?”

“Can we come in?” I say, gesturing towards his office. The rest of the crew, including Jay, seem to perk up. But honestly, right now, it’s not their business. It’s ours. And with Sylvie gone, we have to finish a lot of this off ourselves. I don’t know the first thing about planning a wedding, but with the checklist she keeps sending me, that’s the best we can do.

It hits me harder than I’d like. With Otis gone and Sylvie away, I don’t know how much more I can take.

But today is supposed to be a happy day, and when Greg shuts the door to his office, and Voight starts chuckling a little, low and almost dark, he gestures for us to sit.

“Don’t know why you think you gotta do that,” he says, and I realize what he’s talking about. Both Greg and I had both fallen into parade rest. It’s both funny and sad. Greg breaks first, pulling a chair out for me to sit, and we both breathe.

For this one, Greg speaks.

“I know you’ve already told us you’re comin’ to the wedding,” he begins. “We, uh, we wanted to ask if… if—”

“Whatever you need,” Voight says point blank. “You tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”

Greg looks almost shocked. It’s so quick, it’s so short, it’s jarring. “We haven’t asked you to read yet.”

Voight just shrugs. “I’ll do it.”

“That was easy,” I say, almost under my breath, but Voight hears me and lets out a single chuckle.

“I thought it was gonna be harder than reading, but that’s fair,” he says.

I know what he’s done. I’m not sorry for knowing. He’s justified. He’s protecting who he loves. I realize quickly that I may fall into that category, too.

I stand up, and so do Greg and Voight. And with that, I pull Voight into a hug. I’ve never done it before, but I feel like I should. I should. I pull him close, and for a second, I feel Al around us.

“It should have been him,” he whispers in my ear.

“I’m still glad it’s you,” I respond.

* * *

**July 16, 2019**

**1512 Hours**

**Gaffney Chicago Medical Center**

I sit outside of Dr. Charles’ office. I don’t know how long he’s been gone, but I desperately need to talk to him.

It’s twelve minutes past our appointment time. I can’t help but jiggling my knee. Maggie lays a hand on my knee, forcing me to stop.

“You’re jiggling again,” She accuses quietly. “You know that just leads to something worse.”

I let go of my necklace, and she watches. Dear Maggie. She sees everything, doesn’t she?

“What’s that?” I ask, gesturing to an envelope she’s got in her hand. She just hands it to me, seemingly looking for the right words before she answers.

“He sent it to me, with the instructions to give it to you. He said ‘make her read it first before she does anything stupid’.”

I rip open the envelope and look over the note first. It’s written in messy scrawl, but I know exactly who’s handwriting it is. Connor’s.

_Kate—_

_A congratulations is in order. Sorry it took me so long to get this to you. I debated for weeks whether I should come back, and I decided it was best if I didn’t. So, this is both my apology and my gift to you. _

_You and Greg went through more than any couple should have. I should know—I was there for a lot of it. I saw more than either of you have shared with each other, I’m sure. _

_I’m glad you decided to make a difference. I’m glad you decided to talk to him. I’m glad you decided to help. _

_I’m sorry I can’t be there. I hope this covers whatever you need. It’s the least I could do._

_Connor_

I look in the envelope. Inside, there’s a check. I glance at the amount and get lightheaded.

“Maggie, this is what I make in a year,” I say, almost unable to breathe. “I can’t accept this.”

“He knew you would say something like that, and he told me to tell you that if you didn’t deposit it within a week, he would send another.”

I clutch it in my hand, tightly, and try not to crinkle it, but Connor knows I’m too opportunistic to not take it.

“I’d rather him be there,” I admit to Maggie, shakily slipping the check in the envelope and putting it in my bag. “I’d rather him be there with us.”

“I know, honey. Me too.”

With that, with my breakdown still oncoming, Dr. Charles bustles up to his office.

“Sorry, Kate, had a crisis in the E.D.,” he says, opening the door. I don’t want to admit to the crisis I’m having out here, but he gestures for me to enter. When I weakly slam myself down into the chair across from his desk, he already knows I’m a mess.

The free flowing tears when he shuts the door is probably a good indicator, too.

“What’s going on?” He asks in that calming voice of his. “Are you still fighting with Greg?”

“No! Oh, no. No. That’s… that’s over. That’s done. I just…”

“The tragedy at 51,” he tries. "And Kelley."

I start crying even harder, and he scrambles to find me tissues.

“It’s a lot, Dr. Charles. But it’s… it’s my parents.”

He leans forward. “You haven’t heard from them yet?”

“I stopped trying,” I admit. “I stopped trying. They’re not coming. They’re not coming to their only daughter’s wedding. And this is all because I joined the Army, you know. They hated it. I don’t know why me serving my country was what made them just… completely disown me. I’m an orphan, Dr. Charles, and I don’t know what to do about…. About—”

He shifts, moving around to sit at the chair next to me. It’s a welcome gesture. “Kate, we’ve talked through this. You know they didn’t understand your… your yearning to help protect the country. They just wanted to protect you. I know it doesn’t feel that way, but they’re also protecting themselves. And people get comfortable in knowing that they don’t have to worry about something if they can just… lock it out of their brain.”

“I’m their daughter! I’m their daughter, and they haven’t talked to me in a decade!” I feel myself starting to hyperventilate, but he shakes his head.

“Family is what you make of it,” he continues. “You’ve got Greg, and Jay, and Dr. Halstead, and Kelley and Sylvie—“

“I know. I know, but Sylvie’s dealing with her own shit now, breaking off her own engagement. And with Otis. And Kelley… Kelley is still working through the—the fire, and she hasn’t been herself for weeks. I don’t know what to do. I can’t live like this. I feel like I’m just floating. I don’t even have anyone to walk me down the aisle.”

I’m nearly shaking, and I don’t think even Dr. Charles knows what to do other than hand me a tissue.

“What can I do?”

“Can I just… can I have a hug?”

“I think I can handle that,” he says, and I very nearly fall into him. With an oof, he pulls me close. In fact, it makes me cry that much harder. I’ve only gotten a handful of hugs from the man, and each one gets better and better, like he just wishes the embrace would make it all go away.

In a small voice, though, I hear him.

“It’s a little unorthodox, but I… I mean, I-I could… if you wanted—”

I pull away from him just enough to look at him. He’s sheepish. I’ve never seen him like this before.

“Are you offering to walk me down the aisle?” I say, point blank. Before he can back out, or say anything else, I find myself nodding. It’s the best thing I’ve heard in weeks. The hope slips back into me, and I finally feel like I could smile. “You… you would do that?”

“I mean, it’s probably not—probably not ethically sound, but—”

“I don’t care,” I say quickly. “You…” The tears well again as I feel the words slipping from my mouth. “You’ve been more of a father figure to me than my own dad ever was. He doesn’t deserve it. You do.”

He looks away from me, and I can see the tears in his eyes. It just feels right. It feels like it should. This is the feeling I should have about walking down the aisle to my wedding. Not how I felt coming in today.

I pull him back into another hug. “Thank you,” I say into his shoulder.

“You’re welcome, Kate. You’re so very welcome.”

I don’t even think he knows how much that means. People don’t always stay in my life, but the ones that matter? They do. They do.


	6. There’s a naked hush, clothed only in breath and a pulse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate and Greg have a nice night in and make some realizations about the music of their past.

**August 15, 2019**   
**1927 Hours**   
**1111 W 14th Place #122, Little Italy, Chicago**

I continue loading the dishwasher after dinner and finally Greg just turns off the TV, nearly flinging the remote across the room. It’s more of a gentle lob; he knows not to break it—I’ve already broken two on the brick wall—but it’s still something done out of necessary frustration.

“You’re callin’ it already?”

“I don’t want to see anymore,” he grumbles. I’ll get the losing score from the MLB app in an hour or two. Instead, he goes to retrieve the remote and pulls up Spotify.

“What are you doing?” I say, slipping out of the kitchen and leaning onto the back of the couch. He’s grumbling, sure, but he’s looking through playlists on my account. “You know, you’re ruining my Spotify stats with all your Smashing Pumpkins and Tears for Fears.”

“You’re ruining _my_ Spotify stats with your Frightened Rabbit and Flogging Molly!”

“It’s my account—”

He just looks at me with those innocent eyes, and I let out a groan.

“—it’s now our account, really.”

“We’re getting married, not Voltron-ing into one being.”

He goes back to his scrolling, ignoring my humorous comment. I thought it was funny. Regardless, I jump over the top of the sofa and settle down next to him. “What are you looking for?”

“We have some work to do.”

“Uh, okay—”

“We haven’t picked our first dance.”

I cringe. I forgot about that. I forgot completely that we would have to dance in front of all our friends and family to a song that we had to agree on—

“You’re turning pale.”

“I’m doing my best here, but the anxiety is getting the better of me.”

Still, he continues to scroll. I’ve got about 150 playlists at this point, so he’s getting frustrated, until he goes into folder after folder and suddenly stops.

“What’s this?”

I squint at the tiny font. The playlist is called _K+G_. I don’t remember making it. It had to have been three years ago at this point. He highlights it and opens it up.

“Did you make us a playlist?”

I try to remember, but I’m lost as I glance through the list of songs.

He harrumphs. “Of course, The Fratellis. What did I tell you?”

“_Chelsea Dagger_ is a Chicago staple.”

“But not an appropriate first dance song,” He says, continuing to scroll.

“What is it you’re looking for?” I ask, leaning into him. He puts his arm around my shoulder as he does. It’s so domestic, it makes my heart jump. He still makes my heart jump.

“I don’t know. Something slow, because we can’t do anything out of the ordinary, or my _babicu_ will have some sort of medical emergency. Hey, why is this on here?”

The drumbeats start, and he turns to me, waiting for an explanation. It takes the entire intro for me to remember.

“Molly’s. It was what, April? I was still on my crutches. Mouse, what are doing. Mouse. Mouse—”

He’s started to stand up, bobbing to the music as it builds, and he drops the remote, pulling me to my feet.

“I cannot remember that night,” he drawls, forcing me to dance with him. It’s not elegant.

“You were drunk off your ass, that’s why!” I say.

“He turned to me as if to say, ‘Hurry, boy, it’s waiting there for you!” He tries to sing, almost in falsetto, as he spins me into him and out again. It’s useless to fight against him, and I start singing the lower harmony part.

“It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you. There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do—I bless the rains down in Africa…”

He stops for a second, his smile falling a little, as he lets me go and grabs for the remote again.

“What was wrong with _Africa?”_

“Nothing!” He says, a little too fast, but I don’t call him on it. Instead, he spins me around again, pulling me into an exceptionally bad dance hold as Arcade Fire’s _Wake Up _plays. I listen, and his face turns more and more distressed—

“_Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up—"_

He uses the remote to skip the song again.

“You think we’re going to actually find one?” I say, listening to the strumming guitar of Flogging Molly.

“Of course, there’s Flogging Molly,” he scoffs.

_“If I ever leave this world alive, I’ll thank you for all the things you did in my life—”_

“Jesus, Kate, did you put any happy songs on this playlist?”

He slides his arm around my waist, skipping to the next song and it shifts to the Smiths.

“This one could work,” I say, trying to change the subject. I slip my hand up to his shoulder, pulling him back and forth in an attempt at a waltz. He can’t look at me; instead, he’s singing lightly.

“Good time for a change, see, the luck I’ve had can make a good man turn bad. So please, please, please, let me, let me, let me, let me get what I want this time…”

I’m left swaying back and forth with him, his eyes boring into me. He changes the song quickly. I think he's catching on, but I'll never say anything.

“We… we, uh, we need to find a song, Kate, I know we’ve got somethin’ here. We’ve… we’ve got to.”

Instead, he lands on a gentle organ sound, and I let out a breath. This one gets me choked up even more.

_“A cripple walks amongst you, all you tired human beings. He’s got all the things a cripple has, not two working arms and legs.”_

He shifts to a face of recognition. “This is Frightened Rabbit, but—”

“Julien Baker,” I say. “A cover. _The Modern Leper.”_

He listens for a little longer, not yet noticing the struggle I’m going through.

_“And vital parts fall from his system and dissolve in Scottish rain. But vitally, he doesn’t miss them; he’s too fucked up to care.”_

He stops swaying for a moment, looking to me in horror. He starts to say something, to try to brush my tears away, but I shake my head. I can’t. I can’t do this song anymore.

“Why this song—”

“This… this reminded me of you. After you left. This was you, Mouse. This was you when you came back. And this… This was you when you came back to me.”

He seems almost speechless at first, trying to sort out his own train of thought as the song continues. But I’m not done.

“I know we’ve had this conversation how many times, and in how many different ways,” I say, trying to wipe the tears from my face. Trying to make the remnants of my emotion disappear. I start to try to gather my thoughts once more, but I stop.

I see the ring. I see the engagement ring on my finger. And I look back up to him as he listens to the words.

“_But I still know that that is you in front of me, and you are back for even more of exactly the same—”_

I see a tear running down his face, and he quickly wipes it away.

“_And you’re not ill and I’m not dead. Doesn’t that make us the perfect pair?”_

He stops the song, not letting it end. He doesn’t have to. He just pulls me into a hug. With that, I know the conversation about him leaving is over. I don’t need to bring it up again. It doesn’t need to be an issue. It shouldn’t have to be. Instead, it changes to _Stand By Me. _

He brings me into a dance hold, and whatever awkwardness happened before, it slips away. In fact, he’s better than I thought, better than he showed me earlier. Way better, what the hell—

“Did you take dance lessons or something?”

“What? Me? Dance lessons?” He chuckles, he nearly snorts. “You know I would—I can’t dance—” The panic blossoms on his face. “Okay, fine, Mazur was teaching me some basics!”

“Nikolai knows how to ballroom dance?” I cry out, louder than I should. “And better yet, you actually caught some of it?!”

To make me shut up, he spins me under his arm again, this time, much better than before. He had been playing me for all the right reasons, and this time, I’ll take it. I’ll take it. I’ll take everything he’s got for me anymore. I latch onto it like I’m on a raft in a hurricane. Before long, I’m laughing, I’m losing it, losing my steps, and falling into his arms, nearly wheezing.

For the first time, he lets the song finish and go to the next one, and my heart nearly stops between beats.

“Kate,” he starts to chide, but the tears are already rolling down my face.

“You remember—”

“When… when was that?” He whispers, pulling my hand up to his shoulder again.

“Start of October. 2016,” I say, my heart thumping. He ignores it. He ignores the reference.

“You were in that blue dress.”

“Like hell was I wearing my dress uniform,” I chuckle, letting him. “We were supposed to be chaperoning.”

“C’mon, we deserved a little time to ourselves. We earned it.”

His words hit me a little harder than they should, and the way his face falls, I think he realizes it too.

_“The book of love is long and boring. No one can lift the damn thing—”_

“It’s not in three, so it would be a box step,” he says, barely under his breath, “more or less.”

“Greg, you don’t have to.”

_“It’s full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing—”_

Instead of fussing, instead of focusing on his feet, he looks back up to me. He pulls me a little closer.

_“But I… I love it when you read to me. And you… you can read me anything.”_

We end up just swaying, slowly, back and forth, and eventually, he opens his mouth to speak once more. He’s quiet, he’s reverent.

“We gotta stop livin’ in the past, Kate,” he whispers. “We gotta learn to move on.”

“I know,” I sigh. “We’re just… we’re works in progress.”

He starts to chuckle; he starts to sing. “But I… I love it when you sing to me. And you…. You can sing me anything.”

He spins me around, swings me out and back into him. I can’t stop laughing.

“I’m not going to do anything fancy. I can’t dance, and you know it.”

“We don’t have to do anything fancy,” Mouse confirms. “It’s going to be fine. Just follow my lead.”

“That’s a change of pace,” I say. He scoffs at me, pulling me close, pulling me closer. He doesn’t snark off, he doesn’t make a comment out of the side of his mouth, He just makes me dance with him. Makes me? There’s nothing forcible to it. I welcome the touch. I welcome the embrace.

“The book of love is long and boring and written very long ago,” he sings, nearly in my ear. Barely a whisper. It’s a prayer. “It’s full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes and things we’re all too young to know.”

“I didn’t know you knew all the words to this song,” I say. “It’s a little out of your usual purview, don’t you think?”

“It was a Magnetic Fields song first,” he says. “Peter Gabriel just perfected it.”

“Doesn’t explain why you know all the words.”

“You really want to know that information?” He says, looking away from me. Looking anywhere but me. I know that vacant look. I start to realize I know why.

“After you left.”

“After I left,” he says. His breath shaky, he lets it out in a steady stream. “The Sandbox.”

At the mention of the place, he slips out once more. I kiss him on the cheek, and with that, his gaze shifts back to me. Without warning, he dips me down, and I squeal. When he pulls me back up to face him, we end up close.

I can’t breathe. The good kind. The not wanting to breathe kind, for fear of breaking the moment. And instead, he slips his hand under my hair and pulls me into a kiss. I kiss him until I can’t breathe. He pulls me even closer, hands on my hips, and I nearly trip. And then, so does he, falling into the couch. I take the opportunity, I follow, and straddle him, taking his face in my hands.

It’s a welcome embrace. It’s a close embrace. It’s something familiar, but it’s something I can’t ever take for granted. And he knows that. We both know that. As the song ends, it fades to silence. The end of the playlist. The last song we had.

He slips his hands along the delicate skin near my waistband, and gently, tenderly, pulls my t-shirt off. I don’t want to move my mouth from his. I don’t want to pull away, but he runs his hands up my stomach, up my chest, to my shoulder blades. To the scarred skin. It doesn’t faze him. And as he peers at my bared chest, at the imperfect parts, he looks at me like I’m his entire world.

He presses his palms on my shoulder blades, one, scarred, the other, unscarred. It’s even pressure, pushing me back to him.

I greet his mouth with a gasp, and he pins me close to him. He traces his lips, a kiss at a time, down my chin, my neck, my chest. I lean back into his hands.

Before I can even get comfortable, he picks me up and moves me to the floor. As he pushes my shorts to my knees, getting me naked before him, I can’t help but laugh. His light stubble tickles my legs as he works his way back up to me.

“We were supposed to be making wedding decisions,” I say, my fingertips grazing the edge of his shirt. The baseball tee I got him for his birthday last year. I pull it over his head, mussing his hair as I go. I automatically fix it. It’s a habit.

“I thought we already did,” he whispers, pushing up on his hands over me. I can see his scars too. The burns from the second convoy. The scar on his side from the first.

I’m distracted by his blue eyes, his lips. His lips on mine again. Again, and again. But my mind is clear.

I writhe as he kisses my side, as he runs his fingertips up the other side. He giggles as he finally lets me kiss him, but soon I’m squealing as he tickles me—

“This is not fair. This is so not fair! Mouse, please—”

“I thought we picked it. _The Book of Love_.”

As soon as I go to speak, he slips between my legs, pushing my knees apart, and I have to grab for the leg of the coffee table. We’re in a very awkward place in the living room, but we’re not ones for decorum anyway. My other hand finds my way to his hair, pinning him down, and he just makes it that much worse.

“I was trying—trying to talk to you. You can’t u-use me every time y-you want to end a con… conversation. You’re stalling.”

“I can stop,” he says, slipping his finger inside me, essentially telling me he won’t stop. “We can have a conversation about flowers or music or whatever it is you want to talk about.”

“Don’t stop,” I whimper, “Just… m-multitask.”

“I can multitask right now, but you sure as Hell can’t,” he says. “What did you even want to talk about?”

“The song, you goof!”

He sighs, leaning his head on my thigh. Instead of stopping, though, he slips another finger into me, instinctively pushing my knees down. He knows my reaction before he even acts. “It’s not too cliché, it has meaning to us, it’s a very nice song, now can you kindly shut up?”

“Fair enough,” I say, shutting it down. I shut it down, and he just opens me back up, moving his mouth back down to me. I’m shaking, I’m quaking, before I can even think. He chuckles. I feel him laugh against me, and it makes me let go. I’m gasping, I’m peering at the ceiling, and he leaves me, on the floor, to recover. When I look up, he’s washing his hands at the kitchen sink, and I raise my eyebrow at him.

“Did I say we were done?”

“Oh, I thought that was an ‘us’ decision," he drawls.

“No, that’s a ‘me’ decision, and you know it,” I say, struggling to my feet. My knees are still shaking. The good kind.

“You gonna make it?” He snarks, stepping backwards into the hallway. When I speed up, I hear a ‘oh, shit’ and he starts scrambling for the bedroom. He slams into the door right before I make it there, and bounces onto the bed when I hit the door frame.

“Ow.”

“Looked like it hurt.”

I peer around the room, and soon, I feel his gaze on me.

“Why are you staring at me?”

He raises up on his elbows, that smirk sitting sideways on his lips.

“Can’t I stare at my wife?”

“Not yet,” I point at him.

“Not yet to which?” He asks. “The wife, or the staring?”

“Oh, the wife. The staring can happen anytime you want.”

“Good, good.”

I lean down to pull his pants off. Between the sheer betrayal in his voice and what we already did in the living room, I’m practically humming.

“Kate,” He draws my name out long, and I scramble in our bedside table to find a condom. I’m almost desperate. I shouldn’t be this desperate.

But as soon as I do, and slip it on him, I take him into me. The rhythm I start makes him draw a quick breath. I find myself closing my eyes, shifting against him, and I feel the fading sunlight coming in through the curtains.

And then I look to him, and I see it again. He looks at me like I’m the world.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I say weakly. I know I don’t mean it.

“Why shouldn’t I?” He says. He bites his lip, and I continue, feeling the soft light, feeling him against me.

“That song kept me alive, you know,” He whispers. “It sounds stupid, but… but it did.”

I rest my hands on his chest. My fingertips almost graze his first injury.

“It’s not stupid. It’s not stupid at all.”

“I used it in the letter,” he says, his voice breaking. I slow down, I take my time. He sits up, holding me so I can slip my legs behind his back. I’m nearly shaking. I don’t know what to do with this information, but he seems to.

Like he wanted to make back the time he spent with his hands bound, they trace up my thighs, my sides. Back to my shoulder blades, holding me in place.

“The letter you burnt,” he chuckles, tilting his head to meet my lips. He does so, lightly, barely a brush. “I used it in the letter you burnt.”

“Your goodbye letter,” I say, putting my arms around his shoulders. I cradle his head as he looks up to me. “You… you used that song… in your goodbye letter?”

“It was… it was everything we never got to do. It was the military ball. It’s what… it’s what we always should have had. I shouldn’t…”

I think I know what he’s going to say. I clutch him to me that much tighter. He lets out a shudder breath.

“I shouldn’t have left. Kate, I should have never—”

I cut him off, kissing him hard, kissing him long. The tension in his shoulders drops, and we both let go. We both let go.

I know it will be the last time we ever bring it up. He whispers my name as he kisses my face, my neck, like he’s trying to apologize. I grasp his face once more, forcing him to focus on me.

“But you’re here now.” Barely a whisper. It’s a prayer. It's a prayer of gratitude, to Whoever listening.


	7. I saw a glimmer in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Sylvie trusts Kelley with the bachelorette party, and naturally, chaotically devolves. Kate tries not to have a breakdown at their engagement party.

**September 21, 2019**

**1935 Hours**

**Hawkeye’s Bar & Grill, 1458 W. Taylor St., Chicago**

With school back in session, and September well under way, it just heightens my anxiety about the coming fall. I mean, it really shouldn’t, I should be excited, with my bachelorette party starting at Hawkeye’s.

Sylvie somehow decided to trust Kelley with this. I’m not sure why she thought that was a good idea. It’s going to end with us arrested, or something.

At any rate, Kelley buys me my fourth shot in the last hour and I down it greedily. I’m just barely starting to feel it, and it’s a fantastic feeling. It’s been a long time since I’ve let myself get to this point, and I’m trying not to make myself feel bad for it. Mouse was out tonight, too, and I know I’ll probably have to bail him out. Or he’ll bail me out. I don’t know. The jury’s out.

Without the Halsteads, I would have said I would have been safe, but the longer I’m with Kelley, the more reckless I feel like becoming.

Sylvie, on the other hand, looks more and more concerned as the night goes on.

I slam my hands on the bar once more and turn to Kelley.

“Alright. Next. What’s up on the docket? No penis jewelry. Nothing…. Nothing gross, you know that.”

Kelley finishes off her Irish coffee. “Actually, I wanted to leave it up to you.”

“Leave it up to me? I have all the choices in the world?” I say, glancing to an unamused Sylvie.

“Did you even make plans?” She accuses.

“Shh, Sylvie, parties are my thing,” Kelley continues. “What haven’t you done in a while that you want to do? I don’t know, what can’t you do once you’re married?”

“Mouse had a felony,” I hiccup. “I’ve pulled B&Es. Nothing’s off the table.”

“Where the hell did you pull B&Es?” She asks in shock. “Now that would be something I’d like to see.”

“You wanna go? Let’s go. I’ll show you. Old stomping grounds,” I say, throwing on my leather jacket. Sylvie regretfully calls for the check, and Kelley starts looking at her Uber app.

“We could stop at Fuller Park,” I say. “We jumped the fence and skinny dipped. Jay wouldn’t do it. Will and I, though, we did, and someone called the cops on us.” I start giggling. “I took Will’s clothes.”

“What else did you do?” Kelley says, and I know she’s baiting me, but it’s fine.

“Let’s go. I’ll show you.”

* * *

I stumble out of the Uber at the corner at Normal and 45th. God, it’s almost like stepping back in time. Even with the street lights, it’s barely illuminated as I walk down the middle of the street. I hear Sylvie call for me, but I don’t hear here.

“I haven’t been back here since… since I graduated college,” I say. “I got a storage unit, moved my stuff inside, and my parents said goodbye. That’s… that’s the last I talked to them.”

“Danger zone,” I hear Sylvie say through her clenched teeth. Instead, I kick what looks like a stray whiffle ball off the pavement and underneath a parked car.

“We played basketball in this street. Street hockey.” I point at a nearby house. “Mrs. Riley threw a pot of boiling water at us once for being too loud. Burnt Jay’s foot.”

I point at another house, painted white and green still. They never changed it. “Halsteads lived there,” I say, nearly skipping down the center of the street. There’s a brick house, still looking like it’s falling apart, maybe even worse now, four houses down from theirs. “That was my house. God, it’s so much smaller than I thought it was. Anyway.” I scramble down the street, and the girls follow. We head into the 45th Street tunnel. It’s creepy at this time of the evening, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.

“I don’t know if it would even still be here,” I say, looking over the graffiti on the walls, using my phone flashlight. “It’s gotta still be here…. Where the fuck… Ha!” I point at a carving, just barely out of reach, at the top of one of the tunnel poles.

“KC + H2,” Kelley reads. “What, is that your graffiti tag?”

“More or less,” I say, leaning up to take a photo of it. I need it. I haven’t been back. I need it for posterity. With that, I continue my way down 45th. I’ve got to find it. It was quite possibly one of the funniest nights of my life.

But when we break out of the tunnel, Sylvie’s fearful eyes darting through the sketchy neighborhood, I laugh as I look to my left and look down Stewart Street.

“I think Jay and I were in eighth grade, and Will was a freshman,” I explain, pointing down the road. “We caught Jimmy Doyle just laying Ginge out down here. He and the Tucker boys had some sort of vendetta against him.”

“Ginge?” I hear Sylvie whisper. “Can’t be—”

“It’s Will. The full name is Ginger Spice.”

“I can’t know this information,” Sylvie mutters. “I can’t look at him in the face anymore.”

“Oh, I can. And I make fun of him every chance I get.”

I ignore Kelley and continue. “I full out punched Jimmy square in the mouth once and broke my knuckles. It was awesome.”

When I look to the two of them, Sylvie already looks exhausted, while Kelley looks like she’s won the lottery. With a few more backward steps, though, we hit Fuller Park’s Basketball courts.

“The fence is so much shorter than I remember,” I say, looking through to the park and the pools beyond. “Damn. We had a lot of fun back then.”

“You did a lot of petty crime back then,” Sylvie adds.

“You know what I’m itchin’ for?” I say, walking backwards. “A taste of the Old Country.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sylvie says. She’s progressively getting more frightened.

“A good ol’ bacon and eggs,” I say. I’m just drunk enough for this to be a good idea. “Just gotta find the right place.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

I wink at Sylvie. Kelley answers for me.

“She wants to break in somewhere—”

“Absolutely not. Absolutely not, no. I’m not playing party to this.”

“But, Sylvie!” I whine. “It’s my bachelorette party!”

“That’s a crime!” She hisses through her teeth. I just keep skipping down 45th. I’ll be bound to find something abandoned in the area. It’s Canaryville.

I lead them past McInerney Park and pick up Halsted Street. We’re nearly to Back of the Yards, so I’m sure we can find something along there to fuck up.

And then I see it, at the corner of Exchange and Halsted. I don’t even know what the building was before. But it’s boarded up now, and that clock tower is calling my name.

“This. This is what I want,” I say, pointing at the building. “I want to be in there.”

Kelley slips her hand into her crossbody and finds her wallet. She pulls out what looks like a credit card, and with a flick of her wrist, it opens to reveal a lock pick set.

“I’m with the literal worst humans in this city,” Sylvie says to the air.

I circle the brick building, trying to avoid the security cameras I know are probably lurking.

I hold a hand to my ear. “You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Sylvie asks.

“I think I hear someone crying for help inside.”

Kelley’s face lights up. “You know what? I think I hear someone yelling. Doesn’t that sound like ‘help, fire’ to you?”

I grin, shifting down the alley. I see a fire escape leading to the second floor of the building, so I find where the steps are and start climbing up, Kelley not far behind. Sylvie, on the other hand, regrettably follows.

Kelley readies her lockpick set, then glances to me.

“A little space, please?”

“Hmmm, nah,” I say, bracing my arms on either side of the fire escape railings. With a jump up, I slam my feet right near door handle. It splinters open to the second floor of this old building.

I don’t even know what it used to be. Sylvie turns on her flashlight, but I gesture for her to turn it off.

“How are we gonna see?!”

“Let your eyes adjust to the dark!” Kelley says, almost exasperated.

The building almost looks like an old meatpacking plant. I mean, that’s what this area was always used for, but I guess I didn’t realize they were empty. It’s quiet, it’s an open floor plan, it’s your typical urban space. I almost want to tag it, but I don’t have spray paint with me. I'm also not sixteen anymore.

Actually, it’s nice. It’s quiet. The sounds of our footsteps echo throughout the building.

And I look up. I can see, a little higher up, what looks like a ladder hanging down that reaches up into the center of the ceiling.

“That’s got to be the way to the clock tower,” I say under my breath. I try a running jump, but I don’t get high enough and end up tumbling into the dirt. The floor rumbles. I’m not sure it’s entirely structurally sound.

“I got an idea,” Kelley says, watching Sylvie help me up. She leans down and holds her hands together. “Run, jump, I’ll launch you.”

“Are we sure she’s stable enough for this?” Sylvie adds.

“Superego, time to stop,” I say, pointing at her. “Id. I’m comin’ for you.”

I just start hauling ass towards Kelley. I jump, she pushes me higher and I grasp onto the bottom rung of the ladder. It slips down to hit the floor with a loud thud. Sylvie automatically hits the deck, but I start climbing. When I get to the top, there’s no real floor to stand on, but there’s a ledge I climb up onto and peer out the windows above the clock.

I can see, through the slats, most of the stockyards and Canaryville.

It’s home. It’s always been home. I breathe it in. It smells like old wood and a bit like blood. I can see the dirt, and the hear the familiar sound of sirens.

“Uh, Kate? Should we get out of here? Would someone have called the cops?” Sylvie asks, her voice shaking.

I slide down the old metal, and when I get to the bottom, I listen.

They’re getting closer.

“Go!”

I lead the group towards the stairwell. I get halfway down the metal and jump down to the left side and into the area between buildings, listening for the Doppler effect of the police.

“Alright. Sylvie, go south. Kelley goes east. Meet West 45th Street bridge. Where we were earlier. Okay? Go!”

I hear Kelley laughing as she just starts hauling ass. Sylvie takes a more surreptitious exit, walking quickly down Halsted. I, on the other hand, start booking it north down Halsted.

Towards the sound of the sirens.

And as I run, weaving down the sidewalk, I can hear myself giggling. I can’t stop giggling.

I used to do this a million years ago. I used to do this with the Halsteads.

I feel like I’m sixteen again. And it feels glorious.

I cut down West 41st. I nearly somersault into the field, using the fence row and the tree line to hide from the red and blue flashing lights. They scream past, turning back towards the way I came.

As I go, I pull my jacket off and sling it over the barbed wire at the next fence, and I vault it easily, into the dirt parking lot, before pulling it back on.

The blue lights flicker on Root Street. I flatten myself against the semi-truck parked there. There’s blue lights to my left, to my right.

This is a familiar look.

I could try to hide, but they’re gonna find me. I start run down the consequences in my head, but to be honest, what could they do? Maybe I shouldn't have had them run.

But it was just so _fun._

I go to move, but I hear the car coming, and the sirens getting louder. I’ve got to make a decision.

I sprint back towards the fence I climbed before, and it’s the worst plan.

I hear the car skid to a stop, the door kick open, and I’m shoved into the fence. It’s harsh, but it makes my heart jump. Alright. I can do that. I can fix this. Hopefully the others got away.

That’s all that really matters.

I get handcuffs slapped on me and gruffly turned around.

My eyes land on one Hank Voight. He looks at me dead in the eye, with that ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ face.

“Kate.”

“Hello, Hank!” I try, giving him a wide smile. I understand what’s happening here. I understand what Kelley’s orchestrated.

He doesn’t smile. In fact, he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Kate, what the actual _fuck _are you doing?”

Oh, _shit._

* * *

I ride in silence in the back of Voight’s big ass SUV. He doesn’t say a single word.

My concern blossoms into fear.

Where the hell were the others?

It didn’t matter, because we pull into the back of District 21. Not even through the front. The back. Where the criminals go. When I get inside, I see the legendary cage, and I see Kelley, looking relatively wrecked, sitting inside.

Good. They didn’t get Sylvie.

He slams me down onto the bench and slams the gate shut. Kelley looks horrified.

“What the hell happened?” I ask her.

“I ran, I got caught,” she says, simply shrugging.

“What about Sylvie?”

“Got her in the interrogation room,” Kelley says, wiping the sweat from her face with her shoulder.

“Dammit. Dammit,” I whisper. “What now?”

“Trespass. Possibly breaking and entering. I had burglary tools. So I don’t know.”

I look up as Trudy appears before the fencing, arms crossed, face locked into somewhere between rage and disappointment.

“I thought you were better than this,” she says, shaking her head. Voight comes back to the cage, and he doesn’t open it.

“Yeah, why is it always you two?” Voight says, gesturing towards the two of us.

“Why aren’t you booking us?” I ask, and he shakes his head, setting his jaw.

“No, I’m the one asking the questions here. What possessed you three to break into the stockyards?”

Kelley and I just glance at each other. Neither of us wants to answer—

“What the hell were you thinking?!” He yells. I jump. I thought being in the cage meant we wouldn’t be booked. “Burglary is a class 2 felony! That’s three to seven years in prison!”

“We thought we heard someone crying for help—” I start.

“Don’t give me that bullshit.”

I try a different tactic with him. “Hank, you know me. You know us—”

“You wanna watch your tone with me.”

“C’mon.”

“A month before your wedding!” He roars. “You are smarter than that, Kate!”

I feel the tears welling in my eyes. As soon as it happens, Hank looks to Trudy, then nods his head towards the hallway.

He unlocks the cage and pulls Kelley out by her elbow. I don’t know where she’s going, but they leave me alone, handcuffed, in silence. A minute passes. Several minutes pass. And then, from the other side of the garage, I see the bastard.

Mouse, hands in his jean’s pockets, wearing that stupid red hoodie. A grin wide on his face.

“Oh, you bastard!” I yell out, shaking my handcuffs behind me. I should have known. I should have known he was involved. He just starts laughing, he laughs until he unlocks the cage and leans up against the place where the door frame should be.

“Handcuff keys. Now.”

“Are you seriously mad at me?”

“Maybe a little,” I say, and he leans down to unlock my handcuffs. I rub my wrists. “What the hell was your bachelor party?”

“… Extreme hide and seek.”

He starts to grin as I see the rest of them filtering in from the back: Trudy, and Jay, and Kelley, and a very concerned Sylvie, Will, and Voight.

“Who knew?!” I accuse. What’s killing me is the smile forcing itself onto the lips of one Hank Voight. “Which of you knew this shit?!”

Kelley immediately raises her hand. Mouse turns, takes the few steps to her, and they high five and low five upon his passing.

“I knew when Will tackled me on 44th,” Sylvie offers with a grimace.

“Sorry about that,” Will whispers.

“It was kind of fun,” Sylvie whispers back.

“And you got Hank?! And Trudy?!”

“Someone needed to have a level of decorum,” Trudy says. “I’m gonna change and I’ll meet you at Molly’s.”

She leaves. "Was Crockett involved?"

"Yeah," Kelley says, "But he ended up having to work, so we had him on standby at the ED."

I glare at Jay. “You did this.”

“Hey, it was a fun idea that Kelley and I had,” he says. “You could relive your Canaryville days, and we… we could relive the horrors you put us through, on the other side of the law.”

"Payback's a bitch," Will adds. 

“Did you tell him where we were?” I accuse Kelley. She shakes her head.

“Pure Canaryville sense,” Jay says, pointing at his head. “Just had to find the nearest abandoned building, and Kate wouldn’t be far behind.”

“That’s unfair.”

Jay just grins. “But did you have fun?”

“It was exhilarating.”

“Perfect, then it’s time to get wasted at Molly’s, let’s go!” Kelley calls out, grabbing for Sylvie. She shakes her head, still seemingly mad at Kelley. Hank stands there, hands in his pockets, waiting for me to approach. 

"We still at least trespassed at that place."

I nearly look him eye to eye, but it doesn't faze him at all. He just barely shrugs. That's his answer to the entire situation.

“Hank, you’ve scared me since day one.”

“I know," he adds in that gruff voice. A bit of humor slips into it, though. I nod, and he nods once, and with that admittance, I link my arm with Mouse’s.

“You’re gonna pay for this later.”

“Oh, don’t get me excited.”

* * *

**October 4, 2019**

**1825 Hours**

**Molly's Pub, Chicago**

I wring my hands. It’s really the last chance. I don’t know why I agreed to this, but I know that it was important to Mouse to have this.

Still, as I look around Molly’s, and see the Halsteads, and Herrmann and Stella manning the bar, and Kelley and Sylvie, I don’t know what else I can do.

Mouse sits with his grandmother at one of the tables near the front door. I’m near tears when Jay approaches.

“Kate, listen, I know we reached out to your parents—”

“They’re not going to come,” I say, shaking my head. “This Oswiadczyny or whatever… it’s nothing. They’re not going to come. I’ve given them enough chances to show up.”

“Hey, Kate,” Mouse calls, and gestures for me to come over. When I sit, Kazimiera takes my hands in hers. He slips out, and I watch him head off to talk to the Halsteads.

“I was hoping they would come, but I don’t think they will,” I admit to her, trying to hide the tears welling in my eyes.

“Oh, _moja wnuczka, _don’t worry.” She says something in Polish, and I must give her a blank look, because she seems to chide me again. I hear the door open, but I don’t look. I don’t want to look. “What was, won’t come back. You have all moved on. You have a new family now.”

She gestures towards the rest of the bar. I realize, when the door opened moments before, a crowd flooded in.

Mouse greets Atwater and Ruzek. Will shakes the hand of Dr. Marcel, then pulls Kelley into a hug. And Dr. Charles looks to me, slightly flustered, slightly, slightly. I stand up, throwing my arms around him, and he seems surprised at first. Eventually, he completes the embrace.

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I could never miss this,” he says. “Grab Greg. I would love to meet his grandmother.”

I gesture to Mouse, and he weaves his way through the crowd. The crowd here for us. I see Jay and Will, who gives me knowing smiles.

They fixed this. I know they did. And whether they realize it or not, they fixed me. They cared when they never even had to. I never asked for it, but they gave it. And that means more than the world.


	8. Still got hope, so I think we’ll be fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The North Side Valentines end up at the tournament finals, facing the West Town Ruskies once again. But this time, Berkowitz knows Kate and Greg are getting married in just days and decides to target her. But Claude and Mouse have different plans.

**October 6, 2019**

**1305 Hours**

**Johnny’s Ice House East**

  
  


“You have the ceremony music picked with Father Mullen?” Mouse asks me, seemingly ticking off the items from the list in his mind. 

“Done. You want to know, or—”

He shrugs. “Nah. Let me be surprised. What about flowers?”

“Sylvie and Stella made a bunch of them. I don’t know where they learned to make silk flowers, but I told Sylvie I wasn’t going to pay hundreds of dollars for real flowers.”

“You know that’s something you can find on the Internet, right?”

“I believe you,” I say, looking over the ice. Maybe it’s unorthodox to be finishing wedding planning at hockey practice, but I can’t handle how cute he looks, leaning on his stick and looking at me with those damn blue eyes.

In fact, though, he’s distracted. His eyes float up to the stands, and I see Kelley and Crockett speaking. He’s the only one lurking. I can see Kelley pulling on her damn Leafs jersey with Horton, number 7 on the back.

She’s self aware, at least. Still makes me laugh.

“Who’s the new guy?” Goop says, doing lazy circles around the two of us. 

“A friend of ours,” I answer, but Mouse shakes his head. 

“More like Kelley's brother,” he corrects. “He’s got to work the day of the finals, so he can’t come, but he wanted to see the girls play.”

“Hmm,” Goop grumbles. “Doesn’t look like a hockey player.”

“I think he did,” Mouse counters. How does he know all this information? “Left forward, I think Kelley said.”

“Shit, I didn’t know Crockett could even skate!” I say. “You think he would ever want to play?”

“With you two?” Mouse scoffs. “I barely want to play with you two. You’re terrifying.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

“Can you two focus for a second?” AK accuses, and I notice the team meeting starting near the faceoff spot. Kelley scrambles down to the ice while I flip off AK.

“Is that necessary?”

“You’re an ass.”

Murf snorts, and gets a glare from AK, although it’s really necessary. All of it is.

“Who’s your friend?” Laser asks, and Kelley just glares at him.

“Nosy, much?”

“We’re going to lose this Goddamn tournament,” AK mumbles under his breath, looking to the ceiling.

“We are if you keep saying we are,” I counter. “C’mon. Do your little speech you feel like you need to do every time we’re days out from finals.”

“Well, fine, now I’m not going to do it,” he grumbles. “We’re just gonna do a practice game. If we gotta stop, we will. Uhh, Mouse, Edger, pick teams.”

“Kate,” he says. We high five without looking.

“What did you expect?” I say. Edger picks Goop, probably because Goop’s his baby’s godfather, so Mouse snags Kelley.

“I’ve made a terrible decision,” AK mutters. I swear, he needs to just go back to coaching kids. It would be easier for him. 

“You need a better nickname,” Mouse says to Kelley, the two of them doing their not so secret high five, low five combo before snagging Raz. Kelley blows a kiss to the nut job, who mimes catching it.

“She’s a damn goon,” I say, gesturing towards the younger woman. “Her idea of a good time was faking an arrest a month before my wedding.”

“And you had fun!” She accuses, continuing her tag game with Raz, much to AK’s chagrin.

“Goon is good,” Laser adds, joining our side. 

“Herrmann calls me goon all the time,” Kelley calls out. “Usually when I fall off the rig.” 

Mouse turns towards me. “You fall off? Kate, she’s actually me.”

“I do not even want to consider this fact,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t need a clone of either of you. I put up with enough bullshit.”

Kelley starts chasing Raz even closer, making pigeon noises. I swear to God, she’s obsessed with that asshole and his pigeon noises.

“Kate, she’s tiny. And cute. Can we please keep her?” Mouse says, leaning on his stick and looking at me longingly. 

Kelley skates in circles around me, still making pigeon noises. 

“I dunno, can you keep me? Bwrreggh!”

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I call out. “Who are you? Why do you turn into this Guardian of Chaos when you hit the ice? Is this a Canadian thing?”

“I am the great Doppler pigeon. Fear me.” As she continues to circle, she forgets to scan the ice and tanks it. I see Crockett stand up in the stands visually check her until she holds up her thumb.

“What’d you do, blow a tire?!”

“I’m good!”

“There ain’t nothin’ good about you,” Kilts says under his breath. 

“Bwreeghh!”

Crockett motions for me to come over to the boards. When I do, he calls down to me. 

He looks tired.

"Is she doing the Claude Giroux again?"

I squint. “The pigeon thing. Right. She’s made me watch the YouTube video like, eighteen times.”

He nods, and I can see how done he already is.

"That checks out. I hate game days. She comes home battered and does nothing but make noises at me."

For good measure he imitates it. Not even close. Still, the idea remains.

“There we go!” I call out, pointing to Kelley, still on the ice. Did she not get up, or did she fall again? The jury’s still out. “Claude!”

“Claude?” Mouse says, laughing literally immediately. “You expect me to call her Claude on the ice and not bust out laughing?!”

“That’s the point!”

“Claude it is!” I say, winking at Crockett before skating backwards to the faceoff spot. I glare at Howie as I hook on my helmet. 

“Please don’t do this,” Howie says. 

“You know I’m gonna.”

“No chirping policy,” he accuses. “You remember what you did to Raz.”

“He was only in the hospital for observation!”

“For two days!”

“I didn’t know my own strength!” I say, as AK drops the puck. I snatch it, moving just barely faster than Howie, and we’re off. It’s more fun than it used to be, admittedly, when I see Kelley box out Murf and nearly make him break his ankles in a dumbass fall.

I pull off a deke—probably unnecessary—in front of Dags, and slip it past the second hole before Edger can even make a move to stop it. In my typical fashion, scoring before the first minute has clocked down.

I pass Kelley and she seems to be struggling a bit with her balance. I know her knee had been acting up, but I hear her muttering as I pass.

“Right stick, camera, left stick, move, Kate, where the hell are my brakes?!”

“This isn’t Grand Theft Auto, Claude!”

“That’s really gonna stick, isn’t it?”

“It’s his fault!” I say, pointing back at Crockett. “His idea!” Regardless of how funny it is, I glance back up to the good doctor. He hasn’t sat down yet, and he crosses his arms over his chest. The worst part?

I don’t have the heart to tell him she’s being tame.

* * *

“Something else I thought of. Seating at Molly’s,” Mouse says as we start to head off the ice. He’s covered in sweat, his face red still from exertion and his extreme goaltender padding making him look like a kid in his dad’s closet.

“Did you even focus during that practice?”

“Oh, yeah. I did. Especially for the entire period that you didn’t let the puck go over the center line.”

I produce a chef’s kiss. “It’s my specialty.”

I skate towards Kelley, who’s having a slightly heated conversation with Crockett. He leans down on the boards, the sleeves of his sweater pushing up a little bit and revealing his gloves. 

“Everything alright over here?” I add, slinging some ice shavings up when I come to a stop next to them. 

“I’m trying to tell him this was a calm day,” Kelley adds, her smile becoming slightly manic. I don’t know if it’s a good thing, sometimes, having her in such a violent sport. Sometimes she goes a little too far, even if it’s for the good of the team. But she usually sacrifices herself. 

“Why don’t you get dressed, and we’ll head off to Hawkeye’s for some food?” I offer, and she nods, doing a pirouette as she heads off the ice with Mouse.

I’m left looking up at Crockett. He just watches her leave, so I reach up and brush his fingertips to get his attention.

“Hey. Don’t worry about her.”

He glances at me and sighs before looking back in the direction she'd gone. 

"I always worry." 

He looks back at me, a sudden flicker of something in his eyes.

"Is she doing okay?" He's unsure of the words.

“You know she’s not going to tell me whether she is or not,” I say. “She’s always going to say she is. But she’s still trying to blame herself for what happened to her and Otis.”

He drops his head with a groan, and I wait.

"But you can see that she jumps in headfirst," he says, finally looking back up. "It's been four months, Kate." 

“This shit takes time,” I say. “She’s not going to be able to pull herself out in a day. That’s not the way people work. Look at Mouse.” I glance back, and I see Kelley hasn’t left the ice yet. In fact, she and Mouse have started some sort of tag fight. When she chases him back to the crease, fumbling over her feet, I have to smile as he skates backwards, nearly flawlessly, to evade her capture. “He’s better, but he’s still healing. Hell, I’m still healing. It’s not going to be immediate. But she’s got people like us-- he’s got people like us-- to help them through it. And I ain’t going away anytime soon.”

He has a question. It's so clear on his face, and he almost says it too. 

"Kate-" he says, then starts again.

"Today was a calm day, wasn't it?" He says flatly. "She fights more." He picks at his sleeve, frustrated. "Kate, how much does she fight? Honestly."

“A lot. A whole hell of a lot. Usually, right to the edge of ejection. But she never crosses that line. I don’t think she will. I hope she never does.” I glance back to the two of them. 

Crockett looks even more anxious. 

"Katie Kat, if she does? Call me. You have to."

He takes a look at Mouse and Kelley, and I can see the start of a smile on his face, anxious though he is.

“Hey. I love her too, you know. She’s like a sister to me. I’ve got her back, and I know you do, too. Between the three of us, I think—no, I know—we can pull her out.”

Crockett nods, and I can see some of the tension bleed out from his face. I know the last few months have been hard on him, with his knee, and the explosion, and Kelley. 

"Katie Kat," he says again, "This tournament is… I'll just say I'm glad I won't be there."

I smirk at the nickname. He’s the only one, I’ve decided. It’s that accent of his. He makes it sound smooth. “But I will be. Tag team, okay?”

I reach up towards him. 

He half-hugs me over the boards, and I see relief on his face. 

"Thank-" I hold up my hand to stop him. 

"Don't ruin it."

He barks a laugh, shoving his hands back in his pockets. 

"Kelley! Hurry up, I'm cold, hungry, and you bribed me with food, so haul ass!"

I smirk, joining up with the two of them as we head off the ice. 

It’s nice to know Crockett’s in my corner.

* * *

**October 8, 2019**

**1837 Hours**

**Johnny’s Ice House East**

I wish I didn’t have to look at them again. I wish they weren’t the second best team in the league. But here we are again, facing the damn West Town Ruskies. In the finals. Again.

But after AK’s debrief in the locker room, Kelley and Mouse bum-rush me in the hallway to the rink.

“Do not take unnecessary risks out there,” Mouse starts, glaring at me. 

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you, you dumbass,” Kelley says, pushing me a little bit as some of the Ruskies brush past. The less aggressive ones, anyway. “You two are getting married in four days. You can’t have a black eye for your wedding.”

“Don’t say that so loud!” I accuse, but I think the damage is already done. I see Berkowitz glance over his shoulder, just enough to indicate he heard what Kelley had said. 

“Goddammit, Berks knows.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Kelley says, cracking her neck. I hold her back with a hand to her chest. 

“Calm down, Cowboy,” I say. “Remember, you’re in the wedding, too.”

“I will fucking tag team with Mouse if I have to,” she says between her gritted teeth. “That Berkoshitz is not gettin’ anywhere near our girl.”

She turns tail and heads towards the rink, and I glance to Mouse.

“We gotta make sure she doesn’t go down on this one. Crockett will literally kill me.”

“I actually believe you on that one.”

* * *

The first period goes by fairly uneventfully. Even Kelley keeps it together most of the time. But when the second period starts, it’s like we’re playing against a completely different team.

The third time I pick myself off the ice, I realize I’m being targeted.

And when Kelley pulls me back up, her jaw sets, and it’s like a wild animal just got out of its cage.

“Hey, buddy! You should be a coach! Like they say, ‘if you can’t do, teach!’”

It’s a weaker of her chirps, but she is so mad, I don’t think she can function. “I got this,” she mutters, and shoots off down the rink.

“You pull a Claude, I’m gonna fight you myself!” I cry out, following after her. 

I rush back, back towards Mouse, as they start a backchecking run. I just have to get the puck back. 

One of the Ruskies goes flying. I hear Kelley laughing hysterically. They’d never let us body check in a women’s game.

But with that, the puck is mine, and I fucking bolt. There’s an audible ‘oof’ from the nearby Ruskies’ defender as I see what looks like a blonde tornado slam into him, protecting me from whatever attack was coming for me. 

Where I’m brute force, she’s finesse, she’s grace—

I think she’s punched Berkowitz in the face.

I keep going. I can’t stop to help her right now. Besides, she doesn’t need my help.

I slam the puck in a slap shot, and I just hear Raz from wherever he was yell, “Howitzer!” Before Kelley lets out a loud ‘boom’.

I turn back, and she’s in the face of Berkowitz once more. 

“Yo, Berkoshitz!” She calls out, following him as he tries to skate away. She’s still in his face. She won’t get away from the asshole’s face.

I tackle her hard enough to push her out of her planned trajectory but not hard enough to knock her down.

“Chill, Claude!” I say, pointing accusingly at her face.

In response, she lets out an excruciatingly loud pigeon noise in Berkowitz’s direction.

Why do I have the feeling I’m going to be playing and babysitting the rest of this game?

* * *

I feel a fight coming on by the end of the second period. In my defense, I feel myself wanting to start a fight, but I have to suppress the urge. If I start a fight, it all goes to hell. 

I snag the puck from the face off once more, and I hear Kelley in her coined Doppler effect that she stole from Raz—

“Buddy, that puck dropped harder than your balls.”

In what feels like retaliation, one of the Ruskies flat out trip me, and I’m face down in the ice, too close to Mouse.

“Yo, hey, hey, hey, hey!” Mouse yells. “What the _ fuck, _dog?!”

Kelley is frantic. “I’ll punch him so hard he’ll have two ears on one side of his head, c’mon Mouse, cover me!”

Before I’m even off the ground, before I have a chance to tell her no, before I have a chance to stop it, Kelley’s gloves are off. She lets out a ‘Bwrreggh’ before full out right hooking Berks in the jaw. Ables, on the other hand, goes straight for Mouse. I just lay on the ice. There’s no point. If I get up, I’m going to end up in the penalty box. It’s better this way.

“Don’t forget you have blades on your feet, you dumbass!” I call out to Mouse. I’m afraid he’s going to unleash some of his Ranger shit without thinking. It’s a fair assumption.

“Thanks, babe!” I hear, somewhat strangled, as the whistle gets blown.

* * *

AK is livid. As hard as he fought, the Ruskies went against fucking NHL rules and put Mouse in the sin bin. 

I glance over. They’ve still got a solid three minutes left. We’re down a defender and a goaltender, and they’ve already made one goal. It’s almost a tie game. 

I try to linger around on our side, protecting the goal without getting too close, but the ref watches me like a hawk. He knows I’m the last problem child on the ice. Well, I was the first one. The OG, as it were. 

I glance to the sin bin. Kelley and Mouse are in deep conversation. I’m surprised I can’t hear them yelling. When they finally get back on the ice, Mouse looks shellshocked. 

“Kate, I have come to one startling conclusion.”

“Can we discuss it, you know, after this finals?”

Kelley makes her way to me with the same fearful look. “Kate! Kate, Kate, Kate! Greg and I are fundamentally the same person. You are essentially, at this point in time, dating the male version of me.”

“I would love to deconstruct this, but we’re a little busy, don’t you think?” 

I reach out to stop the oncoming puck, but Mouse stops it and slapshots it so hard, it makes it all the way to AK, who one-timers it into the goal.

“You were saying?” Mouse says, leaning on his stick. He winks at me before turning back to the rest of the rink. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” He calls out. The mania is setting in.

“You did this,” I accuse Kelley, and she ‘Bwrreggh’s me one more time.

* * *

Kelley is out of control. She rubs her glove in the face of one of the Ruskies, then body-checks another so hard, he falls over. She doesn’t get called for it and takes the puck. 

“Tilly! Break!” Kelley yells, passing to me. I look from her to the goal and realize no one is there. I prepare a slap shot, and as soon as the puck makes it to me, I pull off a one-timer. I shoot it so hard, it slams into the back of the goal. 

3-3, going into the last minute of the period. We cannot let this go into overtime.

One of the Ruskies wavers and falls when Kelley dekes past him. “Broke your ankles!” She hums, pleased with herself.

But the time she takes enjoying the chaos, I’m boarded. I’m boarded so hard, it knocks the air from my chest. 

Nothing’s bleeding, I know that much, but I hear a snarl from Kelley.

“Mouse, c’mon, help me fucking kick his pansy ass and feed it to the bears.”

“Hold on, Claude, hold your pigeons,” he calls out. I look at the clock. It slips to zero, and we’re in overtime.

_ Fuck. _

* * *

I crack my neck as I face him one last time at the faceoff spot. 

“You’re gonna be bleeding before this night’s over,” he says. Almost conversationally. It’s barely a threat. It’s almost a promise.

“Play the damn game, you asshole,” I say. I don’t know why they let him do faceoffs with me. I snatch the puck and run with it.

I’m on my ass again. When I try to get up, I get slammed back. Jesus. What the hell—

Fuck it. It’s not worth it. We just have to get one more goal. One more, and it ends.

And then I see the opening. If I hadn’t been dropped on my ass, I would have never noticed it.

They took out their goalie. They traded him in for another defender.

The goal is fucking open.

I scramble to my feet, just as I see Berkowitz barrel-assing towards Mouse with the puck. Mouse stops it beautifully with his stick, just like I taught him, and it’s like the entirety of time shifts into slow motion. 

“Shoot the fucking puck!” I yell at Mouse. 

I feel like I’m outside of my body. I’m lightheaded—probably from the continued attacks—but I see Mouse set his jaw and let out the hardest slapshot I’ve ever seen.

I see one of the Ruskies head for the flying puck, but he doesn’t make it. Not nearly fast enough. In fact, I lose eyes on it. I don’t see it, and I don’t breathe, until the light above the goal turns on. 

I look from the goal and back to Mouse, then then goal again. He’s frozen. I don’t think he ever knew he had it in him.

But I did.

I know the stats.

15 times in the NHL has a goalie made a point.

This was once in a billion. 

The game should be over. And it is. Until I get to my feet and head towards the frozen Mouse. 

I’m tossed against the boards once more, and I think I feel cracking, and I fall to my knees. 

“What the _ actual fuck, _dude!” Mouse cries. The celebration has already ended as quickly as it’s started. He pulls off his gloves. 

“Mouse, don’t!”

“That’s my wife!” He cries, and slams Ables into the boards. 

“Remember Claude Giroux?” Kelley says, turning to Berkowitz, who’s already taking off her gloves. Kelley doesn’t even waste time. She slams him back into the boards, screaming pigeon sounds in his ear.

I just shield myself, not sure how to get out of the carnage, and when I look up, Kelley just fucking headbutts Berkowitz. He bodily throws her to the ice. 

Mouse is fine. Mouse is holding his own. The ref seems to decide that Kelley needs more help, and that’s when I see it. 

Blood. 

I push past the ref and grab at Berks, throwing him off of Kelley and out of the way. The ref actually looks a bit impressed.

“Alright, Claude, we gotta get you outta here,” I say, pulling her to her feet. She nearly collapses, but I slip her arm around my shoulders. 

I don’t know whether her maniacal laughing is a good or bad thing.

Mouse joins me, sliding up to her other side and taking her other arm around his shoulders before we leave the rink and head towards the locker room.

“Mouse! _ Mouse!” _She cries. “Mouse, you did it!”

“Did what?” He asks, looking at me with wide eyes. He knows what I’m thinking. _ Crockett is going to kill me. _

“Gordie Howe! You got a Gordie!”

Mouse, though, looks at me in horror. “W-w-wait, what?”

“Second period fight, assist with AK when you made it back in, and the most beautiful full rink slap shot that I have ever seen, and I am Canadian!” Kelley crows. 

The color drains from Mouse’s face, and it’s not from the blood gathering on Kelley’s leg. 

“Holy shit, I got a Gordie Howe.”

I push my way into the locker room and set Kelley down. Her uniform pants are cut up anyway, so I rip them open so I can see. Mouse goes to work getting her skates off while the rest of the team makes their way back in, yelling and crying out and congratulating Mouse on his game winning shot from the fucking crease.

I’m focused. The skate gouge doesn’t look too deep, but I’m also not a doctor. It’s also not bleeding too heavily, but it’s bad enough for me to be worried.

I find our extensive first aid kit (created at Will’s behest) and start wrapping her leg in gauze. 

“Yo, Mouse,” I say, “Get dressed and pull the car around.”

He salutes me, and I don’t know if it’s out of habit or humor. He’s soon dressed and gone, and as soon as I can get off my own skates and at least both her and I’s pads, I pick her up off the bench.

“We gotta go to the ED,” I say, but she’s nearly drunk on power. “You should probably call Crockett.”

I do not want to be on this end of that conversation.

* * *

I stand in the exam room with Kelley, nervously tapping my fingers on my jersey. It’s too big, now that my pads are off, but I can’t think about that right now.

He appears in the door frame, and I give him the best apologetic smile I can give him.

He stops where he is and I can see him go pale.

He looks from Kelley, to me, and back to Kelley. 

He's _ seething. _

"What the hell happened?" He says quietly as he surveys the two of us. 

Kelley says nothing, so he turns his glare to me. 

"Kate," he says lowly, and there's fear in his eyes. 

I have to turn this into humor. I have to. I can’t let him be mad at me. 

“Well. We were in overtime. 3-3. It was amazing. Mouse just fu—he just slap-shotted it all the way across the rink, and then I got boarded…” I remember the pain in my ribs earlier, and shift, breathing a little harder. “And when I got up, Mouse was beating the shit out of the guy who got me, and Kelley went after my nemesis. I don’t think he did it on purpose, she’s just…. She’s small and slipped under his skate.”

Crockett's face changes from awe, to anger, then to fear. 

I don't know what's going through his head. 

He pulls the curtain and shouts for Will Halstead. After a brief moment, I see him appear, glance from Kelley, to me, to Crockett, and back to me.

“What the hell did you do this time?”

Kelley speaks up.

"Berkoshitz is a grocery stick," she says simply, trying to motion to me to keep it going.

“Listen, I can’t help that the West Town Ruskies are both wildly racist and just plain mean,” I say. “They’re assholes. We had to destroy them.”

There's shock on Will's face, and a funny twitch to Crockett's eye. 

"Halstead, give Kelley meds. Do what you got to do. But I'll do the stitches," Crockett commands before turning to me. 

"How hard did that asshole board you?" He asks, and the anger is gone.

“Crockett, that is such an improper question to ask a lady. Such a deeply personal situation. You should be ashamed of yourself,” I say, making myself laugh. I cringe when I do.

The anger is back, but it's not directed at me.

His eyes widen. "Halstead, Kelley, you good?" When Kelley nods, Crockett pulls me into the next room.

"Sit," he says tersely, gloves on and back to me.

“Crockett, you make me feel like I’m in the principal’s office at Catholic school, and trust me, I know how that feels.”

He turns and looks me in the eye.

"Oh, I know," he says. 

“I did my best to watch her. I really did. But we had to win that game. For all of us.”

He doesn't say anything to that.

He looks at me apologetically. 

"Can I feel your ribs?" 

“Do what you have to do,” I say, although I’m afraid it’s going to be worse than I thought. Still, I’ve been through worse. Shit. I don’t know how much Crockett knows.

He places a hand on my ribs and I almost hit him.

He steps back. 

"Shirt off," he says. He turns away.

I struggle to get my jersey off, and once I toss it to the bed, I pull off my tank top. That one’s a little bit more hesitant, but it’s Crockett. I can trust him.

He looks at me and pauses. 

I can actually see him lock away the questions, and he's back into doctor mode. 

"There's bruising," he says, and his hand is gently running over my ribs, trying to get a sense of the damage. 

"How are you feeling?" 

“It’s not too bad,” I try. “Seriously. It’s fine. I’ve broken ribs before.” I know he’s hesitating. He’s always hesitating. “You can ask, you know.”

He shakes his head. "Later. I need to get you x-rayed. I don't think they're broken." 

He pauses. "I'm not mad at you," he offers. 

"But I will sic Halstead on you." 

I scowl at him.

“I’ve beat Halstead in about fourteen separate fights. I will win.”

He hands me my tank top. "I need to check on Kelley," he says, not meeting my eye. "Call me once you know, Katie Kat." 

Sure, I’ll follow his instructions, but I know what’s more important to him right now. He should be with Kelley. They need each other.

* * *

**October 8, 2019**

**2339 Hours**

**Molly’s Pub, Chicago**

I finally make it back to the bar with Kelley in tow. Mouse, on the other hand, sits alone, seemingly waiting for me, at our spot in the back of the bar.

I sidle up, nudging into him.

He’s got a look on his face that just says he’s going to explode, but first--

“How’s Claude the Impaler?”

“That is not going to fly,” I say. 

“Her pigeon noises do,” he retorts. “Seriously. Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine. She’ll be a little slow for the wedding, though. His skate stabbed her leg, she’s got a nasty as fuck bruise. She’s got stitches and she’s got to wear her brace, but she’ll be fine.”

He lets out a pent up breath. “Good. I’ll take it. What about you?”

“Hmmm?”

“You were struggling a little. Did you get hit in the ribs?”

I brush him off. “I’m good.”

“Kate, we’re getting married in…” he checks his watch. “Three days, fifteen hours, and 51 minutes.”

“Surprised you’re not down to the seconds.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he says, taking a drink from his beer. “Seriously, you good?”

“I’m good,” I say. He knows better than to push me. “We have something else to talk about.”

“And what’s that?”

“The motherfucking Gordie Howe! You did it! You finally got it!”

“How did it look?” He whispers, leaning into me. I pull his chin towards me, letting my fingertips linger.

“I’m going to remember that image for the rest of my life.”

And he kisses me.

And even throughout the pain, and the concern, and the worry, I feel it. I feel the good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter literally became a role play in a Google Doc, and I'm not sorry. Shout out to Joy, for rocking this one out for me and distracting me from a boring Monday, among other things.


	9. This is what I’m living for, forever coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day is here. The memories start flooding back. They're not flashbacks, this time. They're the moments Kate would rather not forget.

**October 12, 2019**

**1453 Hours**

**St. Gabriel’s Catholic Church, Canaryville, Chicago**

“You’re lucky this dress is loose.”

“I’m lucky I only bruised ribs."

“What’s my excuse?”

Sylvie zips up my dress and I look over Kelley. She’s just lucky the dress covers up her knee brace. She’s going to have a gnarly scar.

“You took the hit so I didn’t have to, and I thank you for that,” I say, scrunching my face in her direction as Sylvie helps me into the lace jacket. As soon as I do, and adjust my necklace, Kelley’s face shifts. She’s not joking anymore. She’s serious, and it terrifies me.

“Kelley, what’s wrong?”

“You’re… you’re getting married, Kate.”

The depth of her statement hits me harder than I would have liked. But she’s right. This was never supposed to happen. This was never in the cards for me. It was never in the cards for him, either.

But Sylvie gestures for me to shift downwards, and she slips my veil into my hair.

I catch myself in the mirror.

I wish I could want for anyone else to be here to see this, but everyone I need is already here. You’ve survived war, and bombs, and explosions and chest wounds and you’re freezing now, of all places—

There’s a knock on the door, and Kelley goes to it, looking out a small crack. When she opens it, I turn to see Severide, Herrmann, and Voight. All three in their service uniforms. I’m already wiping tears when I see the way they look at me. Severide—what once was pity when we met has transformed into compassion.

_You just get home?”_

_"Today," I say, but I sound hollow. I feel hollow._

_He chuckles. “I’m Severide. Kelly Severide.”_

_“Kaitlyn Cavanagh.”_

_“Yeah, well, you’re definitely from the South Side.”_

_“Canaryville,” I say. _

_Kelly slips me his card into my pack as I get helped off the truck. “Call me if you need anything.”_

_“Thanks, Lieutenant.”_

Herrmann, on the other hand, looks at me with joy. I know he’s a father—to more than just his own children. But he almost quakes, his hand shaking as he wipes a tear from his face.

_“Don’t mind him,” Kelly says. “Let me get you a drink. Yo, Herrmann!”_

_He turns, an eyebrow raised. “Yo, Severide! Don’t yell at me in my bar!”_

_“Whatever she’s getting, put it on my tab!”_

_When he looks at me, he immediately smirks. “Six car pileup Army girl!” Herrmann says emphatically. “Drinks are on the house for you!”_

And then there’s Voight. Hank Voight, the enigma of District 21, his stoic face just barely breaking into the touch of a smile. It’s barely there, sure, but it’s there, and that’s what matters.

He knows how much he scares me, and I swear he does it just to have a little bit of fun.

_I hear a grating, husky voice._

_“What’s goin’ on in here—“_

_I immediately straighten, and I feel my hands settle on the small of my back._

_“Sir.”_

_“You must be Kate Cavanagh,” he says, eyeing me without even trying to hide it._

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“Did you bring my unit… chocolate chip cookies?”_

_“Yes, sir. I hope that’s okay.”_

_He looks at me, then picks up a cookie, bites into it, and nods. “It’s okay.”_

“Wow, Kate,” Herrmann drawls. “Wow. I just. Wow.”

“Thanks,” I say. I feel the blush rising to my cheeks. “Are you all set for what you need to do?”

Voight simply nods. “Everything’s set. We’re ready for you.”

I draw a sharp breath. It’s all coming together. Kelley just leans forward and gives Herrmann a kiss on the cheek before forcing the men out of the doorway, for fear of letting someone see me who shouldn’t. But before the door even shuts, there’s another appearance.

“Dr. Charles,” I say, not even trying to hide my grin. He too can’t hide his reaction, as hard as he tries. He gives me a long look from head to toe, sighs, and gives me a poignant smile.

“Will and Jay were, uh, looking for you two,” he says to Sylvie and Kelley. “They’re getting things ready to start and wanted to make sure you both knew what was happening.”

Kelley grabs my hand before hobbling off and out of the door. Sylvie, she gives me a tearful smile, grabbing her bouquet and Kelley’s, before leaving the room. Dr. Charles shuts the door behind them.

“I wanted to talk to you anyways,” he says, clearing his throat. I seem him holding something in his hands. “I had something for you. A few things, actually.”

I don’t even know what to say. I just let him open the small package in his hands. The first thing is a silver coin.

“I found an Irish tradition,” he begins, “A sixpence in your shoe, a—a small horseshoe charm in your bouquet, and a lace handkerchief. I didn’t know if… if you had done it, or wanted to, but I just thought…”

I look up, trying to stop the tears from coming, but they’re already starting. I just nod, and he takes the blue lace handkerchief, wraps it around the bottom of my bouquet, and uses a dark green ribbon holding the horseshoe charm to tie it on. I pick up the hem of my dress and kick off my shoe, and he slides the coin inside, down by my toes. When I slide it back on, I can feel it there, reminding me of his thoughtfulness.

_ “You must be KC Cavanagh. Dr. Halstead’s friend.”_

_“Um, yeah. He got to you quick, didn’t he?”_

_“Anything for a colleague. Why don’t you sit down? So what’s bothering you, KC?”_

_“First off, this is just a whole lot of weird for me. I—I’m not exactly sure how this is supposed to work.”_

_“Why don’t we just talk first, then?” _

“I never thought I would ever get here,” I finally say, and he holds his hands against mine. “You’re part of that. For both of us.”

“At first, I was just doin’ my job,” he admits. “That stopped a while ago.”

I pull him into a hug. He’s careful; I don’t think he wants to mess up my hair or my veil or my makeup, but I can’t bring myself to care. I can’t. And he finally gives it back.

“I’ll meet you at the doors, Kate.”

He heads out the room, and for the first time today, I’m left alone. I peer out the window of the church. I can see the trees’ leaves shifting in the light wind outside, their yellow, gold, red falling into need piles on the brown-green grass. That cool breeze pushing the clouds through the sky.

It’s exactly what we wanted. And it’s happening now.

There’s a light cough from the doorway. When I turn to look, I see Jay and Will. Will, in his dark grey suit and forest green tie, offsetting his ginger hair. Jay, in his green Army service uniform.

For the first time today, the nerves jump to my throat and I clutch my bouquet even tighter.

“This is happening, guys. This is happening.”

Will breaks first into a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“Don’t sound so cocky, Ginger Spice.”

He steps towards me, hugging me tightly. I hold for dear life. “I wanted this for you, too,” I whisper.

“Don’t make this about me,” he whispers back. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks for being here for me. For being beside me this whole time.”

“We’ve always been here for you.” I kiss him on the cheek, and he smiles. “I’ll meet you up there.”

He lets go of my hand, leaving Jay and I in the room together, alone.

Will knows Jay and I had a different relationship. It was always a bit different because of what we’ve seen. But there’s something different still about us, about today.

“I never wanted to go out that night, you know,” I say nervously. “You made me go out. And you know why.”

_“Dammit, you’re comin’ to the bar with me and Will.”_

_“Only if you’re buying me drinks. I have no money.”_

_“Yes, dammit, fine. Someone will buy you drinks.”_

_“I better not regret this decision.”_

He nods. Just once, quietly, just a single nod.

“I’m sure you would have found a way to get us together, one way or another, but you’re the reason any of this is happening. You’re the reason we even met. You’re the reason either of us—Mouse and I—are getting married today.”

He steps towards me, dropping a kiss on my cheek, pulling me into a hug. I clutch him tightly.

“I wish Al were here. He believed in me. He believed in us.”

“He is. He’s here.”

I clutch him even tighter, and I hear the music already starting.

“I better get into position,” he says, finally letting me go. My stomach jumps into my throat. It’s almost time.

“Thanks. To both you and Will. Thanks for taking me in when I came back. Thanks for not asking questions. Thanks for being there. Thanks for being here.”

He straightens his jacket. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

He heads out, and I take a moment. I take a moment to breathe. I have to breathe. I can make it through.

I’ve waited years for this.

I head towards the doors to the sanctuary. The doors I’ve walked through a thousand times.

Dr. Charles walks up beside me. He looks just about as nervous as I do. But I hear the music continue, the piece I had picked for the bridesmaids to walk down the aisle to.

“You’re hyperventilating, Kate. Breathe slower. One and a time. In and out.”

And I hear the cello. I forgot we had a cellist. That may have been Father Mullen, to be honest. Wasn’t his niece a cellist?

Wait, the cello. That’s our cue. I gasp in a quick breath. I quickly grasp onto Dr. Charles like I’m going to fall over without him.

“Breathe, Kate. Just breathe,” he whispers.

And the doors open. And we step into the church.


	10. Believe me now, yes, I would

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each moment that happens, she's reminded of another. Each prayer, each word, gets Kate closer and closer to the inevitable conclusion: home.

**October 12, 2019**

**1536 Hours**

**Saint Gabriel Church, Canaryville, Chicago**

  
  


The first thing I see is the curling gold Celtic cross painted on the ceiling. It’s been there for years. It’s always been there.

The second thing is the song. I know I had picked it, but it strikes me in the heart. It’s an old Scotch-Irish song, a sad one, sure, but played on the cello, there’s a bit of hopefulness in the poignancy.

The third thing I see is the crowd. It’s a wave of uniforms: of military uniforms, of police uniforms, of firefighter uniforms. I draw another breath, feeling them stack in my chest.

And they all stand, and suddenly they’re all looking at me. There’s a brief moment of hesitation. It’s not that I don’t want to do this, it’s I don’t know if I can do this in front of all of them.

But I see Will. I see Jay. And I see Sylvie, the tears running out of her eyes unhindered.

_ “KC. You okay?”_

_“Yeah, why do you always assume I’m hurt or something?”_

_“That seems to be the reason you call me most of the time.”_

_ “Hey, Sylvie, we should get together sometime, okay?”_

_“I would love that.”_

_“Good, good. I don’t… I don’t have a lot of girlfriends in Chicago. I’d like to think you’re a good candidate.”_

_“Me neither, KC. Me... me neither.”_

Behind her, with a wide smile on her lips, Kelley brightens up the whole room. She’s always been able to brighten a room.

_The blonde stops in front of me, head tilted. "Hi!" She says brightly, extending a hand. "Kelley Marcks, Candidate on Truck 81. Good to meet you, Kate. No one shuts up about you."_

_Capp yells, "Kate, she's a Leafs fan! Don't trust her!" _

_Kelley scowls. "I'm a Canadian," she whines. "Tim Horton is practically our idol. Lay off." _

_She glances at me warily, a shy grin on her face. "Coffee sometime?"_

Still, though, the fear threatens me, and I nearly miss a step.

“Don’t look at them,” he whispers as we continue forward down the frighteningly long aisle. “Look at him.”

I draw a sharp breath. He stands in his service uniform, in the dark green. God, I never knew he had so many badges and patches. But seeing him like that, standing tall, his hands behind his back… I never thought I would. I never thought I would.

And then I see his face. And the fear, the anxiety, the terror, it just… melts.

He looks at me like I’m made of the very sun we look at every day we wake up, and thank God when we don’t have nightmares. He looks at me like I’m the very moonlight of those nights when we can’t sleep, and stay up with each other until we can relax.

He looked so helpless back then. So sad. Not today.

_“KC Cavanagh,” I say, extending my hand to him. He perks up._

_“Greg Gerwitz. Well, Mouse.”_

_I squint. “I remember Jay talking about you. One of the times I called from Sandbox. I always wondered, who would pick the nickname Mouse?”_

_“Ah, well, it’s kind of a long story,” he starts. _

As I get halfway down the aisle, he moves for the first time out of parade rest. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. Quickly, as surreptitiously as he can. I desperately want to make fun of him, but I think that’s for later.

Right now, I let him cry.

We make it to the front, and Dr. Charles lets go of my arm. I don’t want him to go that quickly. Instead, I kiss him on the cheek. The tears run freely down his face now.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you for everything.”

He just gives me a smile, that poignant smile from before, before turning to Greg. An extended handshake turns into a heavy hug, and Dr. Charles finally steps back, sitting with Cece. She wipes her own tears, grasping onto his arm when he returns to her.

And I take his hands, and I look up to him, and he looks like he’s going to combust. I thought I could do this. I thought I could look at him without completely breaking down. But he just stares at me.

This isn’t just love. This is something so much more. This is something I don’t even have a name for. Not yet, at least. It’s trust, it’s respect, it’s love, it’s adoration, it’s… it’s a need that’s so strong, even I can’t control it. It’s charming. It’s familiar. It’s…. it’s endearing.

_I hear him laugh. “Listen, I thought you were pretty when you came into the precinct, and the fact that you sat and talked to me for that long—“_

_“You thought I was pretty?” I say, turning to look at him. He stutters for a moment, trying to recover. It’s endearing._

_“Yeah, I mean, yeah, I casually mentioned something to Jay…stop looking at me like that.”_

He looks down at my hands. He looks down at my hands, and then back to me, as Father Mullen speaks.

All I can see is him.

* * *

We make it through the beginning prayers. I don’t know if I’ve breathed yet, not until I see the next hurdle we have to jump. Jay steps up. My hands are already shaking, and while I know what he’s going to read, I’m not ready for it.

Gently, nervously, he straightens his jacket. I look over the medals, the badges, the patches. My dress uniform looks similar. So does Mouse’s.

Before Jay starts, he glances to me. It’s a mistake. My eyes start to mist, and I see the tears welling in his. He has to clear his throat before even starting.

“But Ruth said: ‘Entreat me not to leave you, or to turn back from following after you; for wherever you go, I will go; and wherever you lodge, I will lodge,” Jay says, his voice shaking.

I think back to last May, when Jay and I found Mouse in the homeless camp. Broken, half of who he was.

_“You… you’re better than this,” I hiss. “You have people. You have us.”_

_“I can’t do this to you—” _

_“No, no. It’s my turn. I’m talking. You listen to me. I suffered through almost two years. Two years, not knowing what was going to happen to you. And then—and then! What happens? This bullshit! But you won’t let me help you. You won’t let me help at all. And I don’t know why. I have been here, waiting for you, terrified, for you to come home in broken pieces. Shattered. In a box. And this is the bullshit welcome I get.”_

_“I never wanted you to wait,” he tries. “I never wanted you to waste your time on me! Do you not remember? I broke it off with you! I tried to tell you to forget about me—”_

_“I don’t get you!” I cry. “You really think I’m going to just forget about you? You really think—you really—you dragged me out of my hole. You dragged me out. I never thought I would ever get out, and you did it. I never thought I would be able to go back to civilian life, but somehow, I did. And then…” My voice cracks, and I can’t stop it. “Then St. Boniface happened, and I fell again. And who was there?”_

_“Kate, please—” Jay tries. _

_“Who was there?” I yell._

_“I was,” Mouse says in the smallest voice possible._

_“Yes! So why can’t you let me be here for you?!”_

I followed after him then. I’ll follow him anywhere.

“Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God,” Jay continues. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the ocean of uniforms. Of House 51, of District 21. I see personnel from Gaffney. Our people.

Jay has to pause again. I know the next part of the reading. I don’t think many of the couples using this reading have felt this next part as deep as we have.

“Where you die,” Jay tries, his voice shaking, “I will die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if anything but death parts you and me.”

He looks over to me, to me and Mouse, and leans back towards the microphone.

“The Word of the Lord.”

“Thanks be to God,” I try, but Jay’s gaze lingers on us.

It’s his fault we met. It’s his fault we’ve been together, that we’ve stuck together, for as long as we have. He knows how together we run. He knows how deep it is.

He knows.

* * *

When Severide steps up, he knows what he’s supposed to do. He’s supposed to read and keep his composure.

But I can’t stop thinking about what he’s done. He’s been a background figure, sure, but had it not been for him, reaching out? I would never have stayed. I don’t know if I would have survived.

I know he knows that. He catches my eye, that mischief sparkling behind.

“The Lord is kind and full of compassion, slow to anger, abounding in mercy. How good is the Lord to all, compassionate to all his creatures.”

Compassion. Isn’t that what this is all about? Isn’t that what I tried to do all along with Greg? Isn’t that what we tried to do for months?

_“I fucked up, Kate. I fucked up big time. I… I never should…” He runs his hand over his face. “You’ve… you’ve been trying to help since I got back. I… I fucked up.”_

_“I’m just as fucked up as you are,” I whisper._

_“No, you aren’t,” he says. “You’re better. You’ve always been better.”_

_“That’s a lie—”_

_“Just… you’re the only one who can deal with me, Kate.”_

_“Pretty sure you’re the only one who can deal with me.”_

“How good is the Lord to all.”

“All your works shall thank you, O Lord, and all your faithful ones bless you. The eyes of all look to you and you give them their food in due season.”

“How good is the Lord to all.”

“The Lord is righteous in all his ways and holy in all his deeds. The Lord is close to all who call him, who call on him in truth.”

“How good is the Lord to all.”

* * *

He’s already a mess as he heads up to the pulpit. I see Herrmann, struggling in his own way, before he starts. As he opens his mouth, that thick accent comes out once more.

“If I speak in tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal,” he starts. “If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.”

I see him glance to Cindy, and she blushes a little. God, to be like them. I hope we’re like them as we grow. So, I look back to Mouse, and I realize the entire time he’s been looking at me. 

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

He bites back his lip. I know what he’s thinking about. He’s thinking about every time we’ve fallen into those categories. The one that makes the tear roll down his face, though, is when Herrmann’s voice reaches ‘it keeps no record of wrongs’. I see him nod, almost imperceptibly, just enough for me to see.

_We sit there in silence for a long time. He slips his arm around me, pulling me closer, as we watch the sunrise through the smattering of clouds. It’s the quietest I’ve found my mind in a long time._

_“I should have never left,” he says, whispering. “I should have talked to you. I should have known better.”_

_“Don’t talk about the shoulds,” I interrupt. “It’s not fair to either of us now to dwell on it.”_

_“Fair enough. Can we... can we start over?”_

_“I don’t want to start over,” I say. “Why don’t we pick up where we left off instead?”_

_“I’m good with that. I’m... I’m more than good with that.” _

“Love never fails.”

* * *

We all stand for the Gospel. Our cantor leads us while Voight heads for the lectern as well. He’s stern. He’s stoic. And when he makes it to the microphone, I see that gaze turn on me.

And I see that stern look fade just a touch. He’s in my head for a moment.

_“Jay says you’re a Vet.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“You don’t—relax, Cavanagh.”_

His gruff voice echoes through the church. “Jesus said to his disciples, ‘This is my commandment: love one another, as I have loved you. No one can have greater love than to lay down his life for his friends.”

His eyes flicker between the members of his team, sitting together near the front of the church.

“You are my friends if you do what I command you. I shall no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business; I call you friends, because I have made known to you everything I have learnt from my Father. You did not choose me, no, I chose you; and I commissioned you to go out and to bear fruit, fruit that will last; so that the Father will give you anything you ask him in my name.”

* * *

Both of our hands are shaking when we head back up to the altar. The readings done, the prayers said, and this is it.

This is it.

“Kaitlyn Elen Cavanagh and Gregory James Gerwitz,” Father Mullen begins. “Have you come here to enter into Marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”

“I have,” we say in unison.

“Are you prepared, as you follow the path of Marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live?”

I look to Greg. He looks desperate to say the words.

“I am.”

“Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?”

“I am.”

“Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church. Repeat after me,” Father Mullen says, starting with Greg. He almost looks pale. He looks like he’s been waiting to say this for… for I don’t know how long.

“I, Gregory James Gerwitz, take you, Kaitlyn Elen Cavanagh, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

I've heard the words a million times. In weddings, in movies. I never really thought about them until now. Not until they were coming out of his lips. For better, for worse. 

And then it’s to me. And Greg’s eyes are on me.

“I, Kaitlyn Elen Cavanagh, take you, Gregory James Gerwitz, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

“May the Lord in his kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church and graciously bring to fulfillment his blessings within you. What God has joined, let no one put asunder,” Father Mullen says. He starts into a prayer, but I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate.

Greg, he refuses to let go of me. He grasps me tightly, and then I hear him, slipping the wedding band on my hand.

“Kaitlyn,” He whispers at first, before saying stronger, “Kate, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

I repeat the words, sliding the ring on his finger, feeling the familiar tug of the memory.

_“I have something for you,” he says, pulling a small box from his pocket. I don't feel as much panic as I expect to, and that's what scares me. He holds the bottom and I use my good hand to open the box. Inside is a traditional, simple, silver claddagh ring._

_“What’s this for?”_

_“For almost this whole year, you dealt with my bullshit. You dealt with it, and you helped me carry it. I mean, it’s really been longer than that, let’s be real.”_

_“It’s been almost three years,” I correct. “Just because you weren’t here doesn’t mean I don’t mostly count it.”_

_“I know I’m not the same person I was two years ago—”_

_“Are any of us the same people we were two years ago? Stop using it as an excuse. Let’s just move on, move forward. You’re home now.”_

Mullen, he reaches back, and I’m not sure what he’s doing. We never talked about this, but Greg looks like he’s, well, the cat who just ate the mouse.

And then I see it. It’s several strips of green calico fabric, and he starts to explain what he’s doing.

“Handfasting was traditionally recognized as a binding contract of marriage between a man and a woman before weddings became a legal function of the government or a papal responsibility of the church,” Father Mullen says. “After the wedding vows and ring exchange in many Celtic and Irish communities, the couple’s hands were bound together with a cord that was tied in a ‘love knot,’ signifying the joining of their lives in a sacred union."

He lays the strips over our joined hands, and the words start. I’m not ready. I’m completely ready.

I expected the words to come from the Father, but instead, they come from Greg. He starts out weak, he starts out like he’s terrified—but he clears his throat and restarts. With each phrase, Father Mullen wraps the cloth over our joined hands. They start forming what looks like a knot.

“You are the star of each night. You are the brightness of every morning. You are the story of each guest. You are the report of every land.”

The tears run down my face. I can’t stop them, and I can’t wipe them away. My hands are knotted with his. But I know the words. I’ve heard them said, I’ve read them, I’ve learned them just like he has. And I think I surprise him, because I join in.

“No evil shall befall you, on hill nor bank, in field or valley, on mountain or in glen.”

_“When I heard what happened, I... you... it terrified me.”_

_He just shrugs. “It’s par for the course by now. Or it was.”_

_“I don’t know how you can be so flippant.”_

_“It’s what I was born to do. I was a soldier. I was a damn good one. And now I’m not. Simple as that.” _

_“There’s more to you than that.”_

_“Not anymore, Kate. Not anymore.” He just shrugs, defeated._

_I'm seething. “Dammit, Mouse. You... you just don’t fucking get it, do you? I never wanted you to go for a reason. You helped me get through my shit. You helped me get through my shit twice. You pulled me out of a burning building as I nearly died,” I articulate. “You were by my side that entire time.”_

“Neither above, nor below, neither in sea, nor on shore, in skies above nor in the depths.”

_ You’re patient and funny and smart and caring and so much more than just someone who points and shoots a gun and takes some bullets. I want that person back. And I know you don’t think he’s in there, but I know he is. Whether you like it or not. Now I need you to figure your shit out and tell me what you need. This is ridiculous, Mouse. This is ridiculous, and you know it.”_

_"Maybe I'm not ready. Maybe I’m not ready to figure my shit out. Maybe I need to... maybe I need to float for a while. I just need to float.”_

_“Don’t float for too long, okay?”_

_I see the slightest hint of a smile, but it disappears as quickly as it comes._

_“Not today,” I hear him murmur once more to himself._

The knot is tight now.

“You are the kernel of my heart, you are the face of my sun, you are the harp of my music, you are the crown of my company.”

_I glance back at him. He’s still smiling. I’m still not used to it._

_“Do you think he’s happy?” I say, nearly to myself._

_“What?”_

_I turn back to Jay, and Will, who asked me to clarify. “I just wonder if he’s actually happy. I’m constantly scared he’s gonna say no. I mean, we were happy for months, and he just left, you know? I just want to make sure he’s… that he’s gonna stay.”_

_“He’s gonna stay,” Jay says over his beer bottle._

_“How can you be sure?”_

_“Trust me. He’s gonna stay.”_

He lets out a contented little sigh, and with a little pull of the ribbon, it releases, and I see what they’ve achieved—the green calico has knotted itself into an infinity knot. Father Mullen takes it for now, turning back towards the group gathered.

I can see it on his face. Father Mullen even looks excited. Excited? Excited may be the wrong word. Thankful, maybe.

He continues, slipping into the benediction.

“May the meaning of this hour be fulfilled through the days and years to come. May the love of this man and this woman, their unity of spirit, grow deeper and stronger in the uncertainties and changes of life they will share.”

Mouse grasps tightly to my hand. I can almost feel him shake. It’s a desperate grasp. My heart beats heavily in my throat.

“Loving each other, may they love all persons. Trusting each other, may they learn to trust life. May their love reach out to the love of all, that their lives may bless all whose lives they touch. May they find comfort together in shared hours of shadow, as well as in the bright sunshine of joy.”

I look to him, and he looks to me. We’ve been through enough of the hours of shadow to last a lifetime. I think it’s time for the sun.

“May they be to each other both strong and gentle. May all who follow their lives with interest and affection have cause to rejoice not alone in their happiness, but in their brave and generous living which makes life beautiful and significant.”

Father Mullen begins to grin. “The Mass is ended.”

I instinctively say with the group, “Thanks be to God.”

“Are you ready?” Father Mullen whispers. I look at him in horror. I’m not sure what I’m ready for. Instead, he gestures for me and Mouse to face the pews.

“It is my honor to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Greg and Kate Gerwitz!”

I can’t breathe. This time, it’s a good kind of not-breathing. The only thing that cycles through my brain is _we made it. We made it. We made it._

And the crowd? The crowd of our friends and our family erupts. I see Severide, near the front, cupping his hands around his mouth and hooting. Herrmann wields a tissue, and I’m fairly certain he’s weeping. Dr. Charles, he claps slowly, thoughtfully, Cece at his side. There’s a deep thought forming in his head, I can see it, as he peers past us and to the altar.

And then the sound fades.

When I look to Jay, and to Will, I see it in their faces: they already knew. They already knew long before I did. They knew long before I ever did.

Jay’s face… Jay’s hits me in the heart. I see my best friend. I see my childhood cohort, one of my partners in crime. I see the kid who would just push me over when we played street hockey instead of trying to chirp. I see the teenager who helped me commit petty crime, who went off to be a cop.

Will’s face… Will’s hits me in the soul. I see my best friend. I see my childhood cohort, one of my partners in crime. I see the kid who would stand up to the bullies and need my help to fight them off. I see the teenager Jay and I teased to no end, who went off to help people.

I see my brothers. I see my family. And beside them, in front of me, my husband.

My husband.

And the sound comes back. And the cheering hasn’t died down. And I hear Mullen, gently to Greg, not loud. Almost relieved.

“You may kiss your bride.”

I swear I hear bells. I hear chimes. I don’t know if it’s in my head, or if it’s coming out of somewhere in the church.

And he kisses me. I don’t even know what to do. We talked about this, but he’s pulled my face into his, and I refuse to let go of his hand. He just slips his hand around my neck, under my hair, and pulls me into him. He kisses me. He kisses me like he’s been waiting three and a half years to kiss me.

When we break the kiss, I know exactly where to go from here. Down the aisle, down to the rest of our lives.

He grasps my hand and we start the recessional, and as we nearly skip. He starts laughing over the sound of cheering, and pulls me into him as the music swells.

“_Plainsong_. You picked _Plainsong_!”

“Of course, I picked _Plainsong_! We needed something by The Cure in our wedding! You did a secret handfasting ceremony without telling me!”

“Of course, I did!”

At the end of the aisle, instead of whisking me off for photos or something, or anything else, he makes me squeal, pulling me back into him. 

And he kisses me. And he laughs, and he looks up to the ceiling, in what seems like a silent prayer. 

I think of what I told him almost a year ago.

You’re home now.

I’m home now.


	11. We will waltz across the carpet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each moment that happens, she's reminded of another. Each prayer, each word, gets Kate closer and closer to the inevitable conclusion: the beginning.

**October 12, 2019**

**1742 Hours**

**Molly’s Pub, Chicago**

Before I realize it, we’re at Molly’s. Like in the blink of an eye, we’re cutting the cake together, and I hear the casual giggles coming from the gathered group.

“You better not shove this in my face,” I say, gesturing with the piece of cake in my hand.

“I’ve afraid you’re gonna shove it in my face,” he admits. I hear Jay egging him on. I throw him a dagger look.

“Wanna make a compromise?” I whisper.

“I’m into it.”

“Let’s be good, and we can have a food fight later?”

He seems to consider it for a second, then whispers in my ear—“is that corset involved?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, hell yes,” he says, gently feeding me cake. I think Jay and Will are disappointed, but I know we aren’t.

We aren’t.

But as the table gets cleared, and people start to gather their cupcakes, and Herrmann dims the lights further, I realize what’s about to happen. I realize that it’s time. The last thing for me to be nervous about. A weird tradition, to be honest. I don’t know why it’s necessary.

“You about done?” Mouse says, taking my hand in his. He starts leading me to the open part of the back of Molly’s. People are watching.

“Wh-what?”

“Your internal monologue. You’ve got that slightly concerned, vacant look on your face.”

I suppress the urge to smack him, but I don’t suppress the smile. The music has already started, and he grasps my hand tightly, pulling me close to him at my waist. The introduction ends, and I just… I listen to the words.

_“The book of love is long and boring. No one can lift the damn thing. It’s full of charts, and facts, and figures and instructions for dancing.”_

I try not to slip back into the flashes of memory, but when he holds tightly to me, pulls me close, I have to.

** **

_I skate back over to Mouse, who barely vaults the wall before he’s grabbing onto it again. My heart sinks. I don’t know if I’m sad for him or me._

_“You can’t skate, can you?”_

_“I love hockey. I love watching hockey. I have never been on the ice in my life.”_

_I cover my mouth with my hand as I try to hide my laughter. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know! You didn’t say anything!”_

_“Yeah, well, when a pretty girl tells you to go ice skating, you go ice skating!”_

** **

“What are you thinkin’ about?” He whispers, his voice barely able to be heard over the music.

“The entire wedding, I couldn’t stop… I couldn’t stop thinking. About us. About you.”

_“But I, I love it when you read to me. And you, you can read me anything.”_

“Like what?” He asks. We both know it could be good, it could be bad. But it didn’t matter. Because it led here.

_ “You know I could take pretty much anyone?”_

_He doesn’t look at me while we cross the street. “Oh, I know. It’s so you have a witness if there’s a murder trial.” He talks out of the side of his mouth, and it’s endearing. I keep thinking that word, don’t I?_

_Without thinking, I loop my arm through his, and in the streetlamps, I see his smirk. His endearing little smirk._

** **

“Everything,” I finally admit. “How we met. When you came back. At the 31st Street Beach. Ice skating at Millennium Park. It’s just like… I needed those reminders today.”

_“The book of love has music in it. In fact, that’s where music comes from. Some if it’s just transcendental. Some of it’s just really dumb.”_

He just smiles. He smiles, he looks down at his feet, like he’s trying to remember how to do it, and I’m struggling to follow, but I’m following. We’re doing the dance together. We might fumble from time to time, but we’re together.

_I jump, but I know the voice, and I look up to see Mouse strolling towards me, hands in his coat pockets and an Army green beanie on his head. I’m not quite sure how I feel about him being here. At first, I think I’m wary, but he looks so innocent. It’s not his fault._

_“What’re you doing here? Are you flirting with me, Mouse?”_

_He flips through a handful of emotions in just a few seconds: first, terror; then confusion and some sort of an attempt to regain a little bravado, then his cheeks turn red as he stutters._

_“Yes? I mean, it depends. I don’t know. No? What’s the right answer, you’re the professor!”_

“You were so awkward at first,” I say, calling him out. “You had no idea how to talk to me.”

He scoffs. “You’re gorgeous! How the hell was I supposed to talk to you without freaking out first?”

_“But I, I love it when you sing to me. And you, you can sing me anything.”_

“You had me before you even knew me,” I say. “I wanted to fight it, sure, but coming from Jay… he knew what he was doing.”

** **

_“You think we—Jay and I—were strong enough? What do you think we did? We leaned on each other. God, he’s still one of the only people I’ve got.”_

_“You’ve got me. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I don’t want anyone to think I’m crazy. I’m not. I’m just… shattered, you know? I’m afraid I’m too much to piece back together. It’s going to take more than just a few conversations to do that. I’m terrified. I want… I want to be normal again. I just… I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”_

_ “Listen, you’re on the right track. You’re doin’ the right thing. You’ll get through this. Hell, if I did, you can. And I’m much more of a hot mess than you are. And Jay… he’s not even on the same spectrum. So you’re gonna be okay. And you know I’m here for you when you need me, right?”_

** **

“Yeah,” Mouse just whispers. “Jay knew what he was doing. Better than either of us.”

_“The book of love is long and boring and written very long ago. It’s full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes and things we’re all too young to know.”_

He grins out of the side of his mouth, and I take notice how his bright blue eyes sparkle under the strings of lights they’ve got hanging on the ceiling.

“Thanks,” he finally whispers.

“Thanks? Thanks for what?”

“For pushing me so hard. For never letting up. For being so damn stubborn, you wouldn’t let me go.”

“It’s in my blood. I’m Irish. It’s what we do.”

His smile fades a little. He gets serious. And for the first time in a while, it hits me. The silliness falls away. We’re married. We’re living. And not only that, we’re thriving.

_“Why did you leave? Why did you really leave?”_

_.“Over there, I had rank. People listened to me.”_

_“But... but why did you leave?”_

_“I... I was scared, I guess. I… I felt like I couldn’t protect you. After Boniface, after… after him, I didn’t think I could protect you anymore. Not that… not that you needed me to protect you. I just… I was terrified.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because I didn’t want you to realize one day that I wasn’t good enough for you,” he says._

_“You have not only been good enough for me, Greg, but you’ve been good for me.”_

“I thank God every day that you never left,” he says, pulling me even closer. I shift my hand from his to around his shoulder, to meet my other hand. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you.”

_“But I, I love it when you give me things. And you, you ought to give me wedding rings.”_

“Thank me?” I whisper. “That’s… that’s insane, Mouse.”

“I don’t want you to ever resent me for what I did. I wish you didn’t have to deal with it sometimes.”

“Why? Why would I? I could never resent you. I’m not… I’ve never ‘dealt’ with anything. I’m here because I choose to. I’m here because I need you just as much as you need me.”

_“Why did you come to visit me?”_

_ “I had to. I checked every month. I checked every month at Landstuhl for you until my worst nightmare came true.”_

_“Why?” _

_“I didn’t want you to be alone. I didn’t want you to go through what I had to go through. I... I had you. I couldn’t let you... I couldn’t let you be alone,” I say. “That wasn’t fair to you, and it wasn’t fair to me. I... you shouldn’t be alone.”_

_“Why?” _

_“Because dammit, Mouse, I still love you.”_

“We would have never gotten as far as we have without each other,” I say. “We’re better together. We’re best together.”

_“But I, I love it when you give me things. And you, you ought to give me wedding rings. You ought to give me wedding rings.”_

“One thing I don’t regret? Proposing to you that night,” he says with a smile. “It just… it slipped out. One moment you were asking if I was happy, and the next, I had a wife.”

_“What are you really thinking about?”_

_“Are you happy?”_

_“W-what?” _

_“Are you happy?” I repeat._

_“Am I… what made you ask me this?”_

_“We’re living together. We’re back together, I mean, we’re better than we ever were. You joined the hockey team. And you have a job, one that I think—I hope—you find more of what you wanted before you—before—”_

_“Before I left,” He says. _

_“I don’t want you to leave again.”_

_“I’m not going to leave again,” he says, definitively._

_“So, I just wanted to know: are you happy?”_

_I finally look up to him. His face isn’t searching for an answer; I think he’s already found one, but it’s finding its way through his brain and to his lips. Actually, it takes him much longer than I expect, and I’m suddenly afraid of what’s going to come out of his mouth next._

_He draws a quick breath and whispers, “Marry me.”_

“Yeah, question, did you just have that ring with you at all times?!” I accuse lightly. He starts laughing, and I do, too. I start laughing and I can’t stop. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. It’s not really important. What’s important is this.

He twirls me under his arm, just once, just enough to finish out the song, and before the last line, he pulls me into a kiss. He doesn’t say a word. He just slips his hand around my neck, under my hair, and pulls me into him. He kisses me. I’m unprepared when he pulls away, but he’s unprepared when I pull him back into me.

I hear applause, and the song fade into the next, and Kelley dragging Crockett onto the dance floor seemingly against his will. But as the chaos continues around us, Mouse just holds me close, kissing me, feeling like we’re in slow motion around the fast crowd.

* * *

Mouse and I finally extricate ourselves and find Dr. Charles, Cece, and Kazimiera at one of the tables near the door. She looks delighted, talking to the two of them, and brightens once more when the two of us breathlessly approach.

She gets to her feet, and without any hesitation, she pulls me into a hug.

“_Moja wnuczka_,” she almost hums. When I finally let her go, she gives Greg a look, then says something long in Polish. His face turns red, and he shakes his head.

“None of you are getting a translation of that,” he says, giving his grandmother a hug.

“Actually, we’re going to head out,” Dr. Charles says, glancing to Cece. “We’re going to take Kazimiera home.”

I lean down and give her a kiss on the cheek. She takes my hand in hers, patting it lovingly. After a long pause, she just says, “I love you.”

Cece and Kazimiera head for the door with Mouse in tow, but Dr. Charles lingers.

“Thank you for today,” I say, and he starts to smile.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it. I’m… I’m still honored you picked me.”

“Not just… not just today,” I say, correcting him. “I mean… you were a big part in making today even happen. Without you…” My voice cracks.

He pulls me into a hug. “You did more than you think.”

“You did, too.”

He kisses me once on the cheek before heading back outside. I have to wipe the tear from my eye.

But I finally get to survey Molly’s. It’s a sight of beautiful chaos. I know Kelley’s taking over the music already, because she’s playing that version of “I Say a Little Prayer” from _My Best Friend’s Wedding_ as loudly as she can. She’s also singing it at the top of her lungs. If she brought down the volume a little bit, it would be good, but she can’t maintain the belt and it makes me laugh.

April and Ethan, they’re trying to dance, but they’re laughing at Kelley, who’s in the middle of some sort of routine with Crockett. He seems to know what he’s doing, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t care. I don’t think he does, either. Maggie and Natalie lean against the back wall, performing some sort of duet.

“I never thought I would find you in Chicago like this.”

For the first time today, I see Janna Novak. She looks different, not in scrubs. But she holds up her glass and I scramble for mine before she starts to make a toast.

“To the resilience of those who think they have nothing left, yet hold out hope that maybe, just maybe, their luck will change.”

“To the people who believed in the ones who thought they had nothing left, for showing them that hope isn’t fruitless.” We clink glasses, and I down the rest of it. “Thanks for coming. Thanks for everything you’ve done for the two of us.”

She glances to Mouse, who is engaged in a heated conversation between Will, Jay, Ruzek, and Atwater. It almost looks like it’s going to blows. But laughing blows. Pointed fingers, hands slapping on tables, heads thrown back in cacophony.

A simple hand on my shoulder as Janna walks away to talk to Jay is all I need. I’m lost in my thoughts, drifting for just a moment, until—

“What the fuck is that?!” I call out, looking over the location of the aux cord to the speakers. “Why the hell are you playing _Baby Shark?”_

I see a guilty looking Kelley, a shocked looking Kelley, but behind her on one of the barstools, I see Hank Voight grinning like—well, a baby shark. I almost think about letting her keep the song on, but Mouse nearly gently tackles her. Instead, he plays a Flogging Molly song.

“If I ever leave this world alive, I’ll thank you for all the things you did in my life…”

I look over to the bar. Surrounding Voight, Ruzek, Kim, Atwater, Platt, Upton, Rojas, Jay, and Mouse are all collecting shots, looking a little more stoic than I would like.

So I head over, and when they see me approach, they push one to me.

Voight looks around the group, and instead of saying anything long-winded, instead of any paragraphs, he looks to Mouse and I and says:

“To Al.”

I take the shot and slam the glass back down on the table. As the group starts to disperse, I linger next to Voight. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to.

Instead, he looks back to Herrmann, behind the bar. Herrmann quietly pours another pair of shots, handing one to Voight. “For Al, and for Otis.”

And they pour them down onto the floor.

* * *

Later in the night, I realize I’ve lost Mouse again. Then I’ve found Mouse; he’s standing at the opposite end of the bar, the team with him. Ortiz, Quinn, Kilbride, Whitney. Ortiz clasps a hand on Mouse’s shoulder, tight, with a smile on his face.

It makes me smile, too.

I go to look for Sylvie, but she’s off talking to Casey, and when I search for the other blonde clad in a dark green dress, I see her on the dance floor, and I’m surprised. I’m pleasantly surprised.

That one Shawn Mendes song is playing loudly over the speakers. I know Kelley put it on. She’s always bogarting the damn aux cord.

_“We don’t care what them people say. We don’t have to be ordinary, make your best mistakes—”_

She spins under the arm of one Tommy “Raz” Rasmussen. He looks so much different than he usually does. He’s usually in hockey gear, singing along to my Flogging Molly or—or following Kelley around the rink, squawking like a pigeon…

He’s put on a suit for this. A nice, dark grey one. He actually looks good. He looks… normal? And he’s actually combed his hair. Kelley swings back into him, and he gently places a hand on her waist. Not too high, not too low. And she’s laughing. She throws her head back, eyes closed, in a loud belly laugh that echoes throughout Molly’s. And Raz? Raz is laughing too, but he’s looking at her.

Oh. _Oh._

_“’Cause we don’t have the time to be sorry, so baby, be the life of the party.”_

As I watch them, the song ends, and before the next song starts, I reach over the bar to my bouquet. I pluck out one of the white silk flowers.

“Yo, Raz! Think fast!”

He perks up, looking to me, because he knows better than to ignore me when I chirp at him. But instead of tackling him on the ice, I throw him the flower. He catches the short stem, then presents it to Kelley, who takes it before glaring at me.

I give her a wide smile, but she can’t do anything, because a bouncy introduction of another song begins. Kelley tucks the flower in her hair behind her ear, then points an accusing finger at AK.

“Gather the troops!”

AK pulls himself off a stool, bemused, before dragging the rest of the boys (who weren’t already dancing) to the floor, before the whole bar explodes into raucous singing. The whole team is there. The team I joined months after Mouse left. The guys that became my family when I had none. And of course, Raz and Murfs lead the call in the “do do do”s of _Chelsea Dagger. _

I finally extricate myself somewhere around the second chorus, retreating to the bar and finding myself alone.

I glare at Raz, as he approaches the aux, and he pauses momentarily. He doesn’t look at the phone as he changes the song. I don’t know how he manages to keep his gaze on me, but I raise my eyebrow at him as he cues up the next song.

I listen to it for a minute before trying to find him in the crowd. “Nickelback? Really?!”

“_My best friend gave me the best advice. He said, ‘each day’s a gift and not a given right. Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind and try to take the path less traveled by. The first step you take is the longest stride.’”_

Voight’s still sitting at the bar, alone, still nursing his drink. I keep looking at him, and I think he feels my gaze before meeting it.

I’m not going to lose this battle. Not this time. Even though he still scares the living hell out of me.

“Kate,” he mutters. “You’re giving me gray hairs.”

I don’t stop.

“Kate,” he says again, a mix of emotions on his face. He settles on unamused. “What are you doing, Cavanagh?”

“Firstly, I’d like you to address me by my correct name, which is Gerwitz now,” I say. “Secondly, dance with me.”

He almost imperceptibly shakes his head as he stares at me, but something seems to finally click in his head, and he lets out a short sigh before downing the rest of his drink and standing up.

I am gleeful. In fact, it sends a bit of a ripple through some of the guests, but I glare at Ruzek as he starts to smack Atwater to look. Instead, Voight pulls me into some sort of dance hold—he would know how to dance? Wait, he totally would know—And I listen to the lyrics.

_“If today was your last day and tomorrow was too late, could you say goodbye to yesterday? Would you live each moment like your last? Leave old pictures in the past? Donate every dime you have? If today was your last day?”_

“I shouldn’t say that you scare me,” I say, and I hear him just barely chuckle. “You intimidate me. In the best way. But I know you care. I know you care about your team, and… and me. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. Besides, you know like hell none of the rest of your team would make you—and successfully, I might add—dance with them.”

He leans back a little to glare at me.

_“Against the grain should be a way of life, what’s worth the prize is always worth the fight. Every second counts, ‘cause there’s no second try, so live like you’ll never live it twice. Don’t take the free ride in your own life.”_

I pull him back closer to me, closer into a hug. He makes a slight oof noise when I do.

“I don’t care if you like it or not, I’ve kind of unofficially adopted you. You know my family’s gone—”

“But it’s not,” he interrupts. He almost seems offended, then shocked at his slight outburst.

So I smile. I can’t stop myself, because I’ve more or less baited him. “I know, Hank.”

_“If today was your last day, would you make your mark by mending a broken heart? You know it's never too late to shoot for the stars, regardless of who you are. So do whatever it takes, ‘cause you can’t rewind a moment in this life. Let nothin’ stand in your way, ‘cause the hands of time are never on your side.”_

He shakes his head at me. “When’s your birthday?”

“November 4, 1986.”

He looks up to the ceiling, apparently trying to do some math.

“Hank, what are you doing?”

“Tryin’ to figure out if you could be my kid or not.”

He raises his eyebrow at me, and I can’t handle it anymore. I laugh my ass off into the shoulder of his uniform. And when I start to hear an unfamiliar noise, I realize that he’s laughing, too.

_“If today was your last day and tomorrow was too late, could you say goodbye to yesterday? Would you live each moment like your last? Leave old pictures in the past? Donate every dime you have? If today was your last day? And would you call old friends you never see? Reminisce old memories? Would you forgive your enemies? Would you find that one you're dreamin' of? Swear up and down to God above that you finally fall in love? If today was your last day?”_

* * *

After the legend of Hank Voight dancing disperses through the group, and more alcohol flows, I’m left with the last few I hadn’t talked to. 

Firehouse 51. The first people I met when I came back. Some of them are new faces, some of them old. Some of them gone. But all of them so, so loved.

I hear the Lady Antebellum song playing, and I almost walk over to them, but I like the image the way it is.

_“Well, hello, world. Good to see you, my old friend. Sometimes I feel cold as steel, and broken like I’m never gonna heal. I see a light, little grace, little faith for the world. Hello, world.”_

Casey and Sylvie talk quietly off on the left of the group. I hope to see the spark of what I think is growing. But for now, it’s a spark. Severide and Stella are trying to both hold a conversation and dance at the same time with Tony, Capp, and Chief Boden. Mouch and Trudy on the dance floor tease Chloe and Cruz for being too close. At the bar, Foster challenges Gallo and Ritter to some sort of shot contest. I’m thankful they’re not on shift for two days.

There’s an unexpected voice behind me. I glance and see Herrmann, still working the bar.

“Don’t you think you should get out from behind there and hang out with the rest of us common folk?”

“Nah,” he says, reduced to his uniform button down with the sleeves rolled. “I don’t mind it. Just don’t tell the others.”

“It’s my secret,” I say. “Thanks for giving us Molly’s.”

“My pleasure.”

_“Sometimes I forget what living’s for, and I hear my life through my front door. And I’ll breath it in. Oh, I’m home again. I see my wife—”_

He just smiles when I’m pulled into a tight embrace. I almost jump when Mouse kisses me. I’m still not used to it.

“Come dance with me.”

“Duty calls, Herrmann.”

He winks at me, and I hear his voice. Love never fails.

Mouse spins me under his arm and I’m not ready, but I make it work. 

_“All the empty disappears, I remember why I’m here. Just surrender and believe, I fall down on my knees. Oh, hello, world.”_

Of course we do. We have to. It’s what we do.


	12. Just enough to say “I love you” to the girl who keeps me sane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And you’re not ill and I’m not dead. Doesn’t that make us the perfect pair? You should sit with me and we’ll start again."
> 
> Kate and Greg start the rest of their lives.

**October 13, 2019**

**0122 Hours**

**Molly’s Pub, Chicago**

For the first time in a while, I find myself able to sit down at the bar. I’m finally alone. As the people start to drift out, and only a few remain, I have the time to peer around Molly’s.

Molly’s. The place that has become a home.

Jay sidles up to me. The various levels of dishevelment in which he appears makes him look younger than he is.

“How you doin’?” He says, crossing his arms. I look him over, then push him a little.

“I’m exhausted,” I admit. “And I’m a little hungry.”

“Did you get anything to eat?” He says, suddenly concerned. “I’m sure there’s something in the back freezer.”

“I’m fine. Maybe I’ll get Mouse to stop and get me food before we head home.”

“What, you’re not goin’ to a hotel tonight? Livin’ it up in the city?”

I start to piece something together. “Are you quoting _Uptown Funk_?”

“What? Me? No, I don’t think so,” he says, shaking his head. “Look, it’s been a long day. My sister got married. It was a whole ordeal.”

I punch his arm a little. It’s not as hard as it usually is. I think he recognizes that.

“Thanks.”

“You gotta stop thankin’ me.”

“Never gonna do that,” I say, looking down at the wood floor. “I’m going to owe you until the day I die.”

“Nah, you can just name your firstborn after me,” he says.

“Not a bad idea.”

At the thought expressed, Jay goes speechless. I glance to him, and he doesn’t seem to be able to speak.

“I’m not joking, Jay. He and I are already talking.”

“W-what?” Jay says, his mouth agape. “Seriously?”

“We ain’t gettin’ any younger!” I laugh, and he has to hold himself up with the bar. “Why does that surprise you so much?”

“I’ve seen shit,” he whispers, not looking at me. “I know too much. Too much about you, and too much about him.”

“And?”

“I’m terrified to know what kind of kid you would produce,” he mutters. “I need another drink.”

“Love you!”

“Love you, too,” he seems to add offhandedly. He grabs a pair of beers from Herrmann, and Will joins me.

“Feel like I’m getting double teamed by the Halstead boys.”

“Heard you talkin’ about kids?” He says, dropping his voice low. “Seriously?”

“Do you have bionic ears or something?”

“No, you’re just half-drunk, and when you’re drinking, you get loud.”

“It’s the Irish in me,” I sigh. “Hey, Ginge?”

“Kate.”

“You two took me in when I got back. I—”

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “We’re not doing this.”

“Seriously. I think… you know just as much of the shit I’ve gone through.”

“Not like Jay.”

“Different than Jay.”

He chuckles. “Remember that time—”

I cut him off with a tight hug. Whatever he was about to remember, it’s gone. I’ve remembered enough today.

“I love you, Ginger Spice.”

“I love you too, Kate.”

It’s a lot all at once. But that’s okay.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone talking to Jay. I know exactly who it is in my peripheral. I finally just look at him. Not quite what you would call classically good looking, but more my type than the rest in this bar. Dark hair, swept back, a side smirk. I look away from both of them when I realize Jay’s pointing me out.

I remember thinking it was never going to work.

I look down at my hand. My engagement ring and wedding band on one finger, my claddagh on the other. Finally moved to its final spot. It shimmers in the fairy lights above.

“That good of a day, huh?”

I look up to him, and I feel my eyes well once more. He takes a second, and I know he’s surveying me in the low light. I did it to him, he might as well. He shakes his head, seemingly breaking from his thoughts.

I hear it now—I know what he was thinking about. The song had changed, and I hear the gentle organ.

_“A cripple walks amongst you all you tired human beings.”_

He chuckles, and he laughs for longer than I would expect, but it’s endearing.

With a gentle grasp, he pulls me off my bar stool, slips his hand across my waist, and takes his hand in mine. And suddenly, we’re the only ones dancing in the early morning hours at Molly’s.

_“He’s got all the things a cripple has, not working arms and legs.”_

Everything comes flooding back. It all comes flooding back, the moment we met, the moment he kissed me, the moment he proposed. I close my eyes against the tears, and I feel him lean his forehead against mine.

_“And vital parts fall from his system and dissolve in Scottish rain. But vitally, he doesn’t miss them, he’s too fucked up to care.”_

And with the flood of memories, they finally bring me back to the present. The present with him. In front of me.

I move my arms up around his neck, bringing him closer to me, and the tears threaten to fall.

He looks tired. Not the bad tired. The good, half-drunk, happy tired. He’s in half his uniform at this point, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his tie… possibly lost. I don’t even care.

“_Well, is that you in front of me? Coming back for even more of exactly the same. You must be a masochist to love a modern leper on his last leg, on his last leg.”_

This time, the tears start falling with what I think is no reason. He almost stops, cradling my face in his hands.

_“Well, I crippled your heart a hundred times and still can’t work out why. You see, I’ve got this disease I can’t shake and I’m just rattling through life.”_

And the words just come out of my mouth, like I’m fixated on it. Like it’s the thought that I can’t get out of my brain.

“We made it. We made it, Mouse. We just… we made it.”

It’s an eleventh-hour realization, a holy epiphany.

_“Well, this is how we do things now. Yeah, this is how the modern stay scared. So I cut out all the good stuff, yeah, I cut off my foot to spite my leg.”_

And he just… he smiles, the tears welling in his eyes. Those bright blue eyes, twinkling in the fairy light. I place my hands over his, still resting on my face. I pull them away, holding tightly to him.

_“Is that you in front of me? Coming back for even more of exactly the same. You must be a masochist to love a modern leper on his last leg.”_

“Of course, we made it,” he says simply. Simply, but almost out of breath, like we both ran a marathon to get here.

And he pulls me back into him, and I close my eyes. It’s like I can breathe again. It’s like I can breathe for the first time in years.

_“Well, I am ill, but I’m not dead and I don’t know which of those I prefer because the limb which I have lost, well, it was the only thing holding me up, holding me up.”_

I hold my breath, and I think about the image settling in around us: a nearly empty bar, Mouse and I, dancing slowly, forehead to forehead, to a song that no one else would understand, fairy lights dancing above us.

_“Well, I’m lying on the ground now, and you’re walking the only door. Well, I have lost my eyesight like I said I would.”_

“What are you really thinking about?” He whispers.

I don’t open my eyes. I can’t yet. “Are you happy?” I whisper, my voice cracking.

“I would be completely lost without you,” he says.

I think back to all the times he spoke to me last year about how he felt. And the times that he mentioned just how… how much he felt, and how little he felt. The days he wanted everything to end. The days that were better, and he said not today.

_“But I still know that that is you in front of me. And you are back for even more of exactly the same. Well, are you a masochist? You love a modern leper on his last leg.”_

The music breaks down, shifting from the rock verse to a deconstructed chorus, almost like a prayer with a simple guitar.

“Do you… do you ever think back to… to eighteen months ago? And—and you… you, uh, not… not…”

“Spit it out, Gerwitz.”

I stop. His smile starts to fade a little, as he gets a little concerned.

“That’s the first you’ve said… that’s—that’s my name now, isn’t it?”

“You gotta stop with the stuttering; you sound like me.”

_“And you’re not ill and I’m not dead. Doesn’t that make us the perfect pair? You should sit with me and we’ll start again and you can tell me all about what you did today, what you did today.”_

“Stop making fun of me,” I finally say. “When you said… you said when you came back. ‘Not… not today.’ I just… I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad you came back.”

“I wish I could have told myself I’d be standing here, dancing with my wife. I was… I thought I was dead. I should have been dead. I wanted…” He drifts. “I never would have thought this was in the cards for me.”

The music has stopped. The music has stopped, but we’re still dancing.

“You never know how things are going to change for the better,” I say. “You just have to hope and pray that it will.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you. This… this was…”

“This was a very good day.”

We were never supposed to be here. We were never supposed to be together. But for some reason, for some glorious reason, the world pushed us together.

Not today. It was a powerful sentiment; it was a two-word prayer. It was the only way we both got through some days. But we got through them together. Today’s not about the past. Today isn’t about all the memories, the things we did, the things we got through to get here.

Today is just the start. It’s the start of everything that comes after. It’s us, together.

Not today.

Tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it weren't for Joy, I would haven't written this. And I wouldn't have known how badly I needed to. From the moment you messaged me, telling me how important this story was to you, I knew this was the ending they deserved. 
> 
> Not today.  
Tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.


End file.
